


[Shiftings]

by WauryD



Series: Shiftings [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Death of a pet, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Puns & Word Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-28 19:31:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11424657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WauryD/pseuds/WauryD
Summary: Jaime and Brienne begin their journey to find out the fate of the Lion. It's unpleasant.





	1. The Sky Road To Tarth

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the delay! I actually wrote pretty much the whole thing in about 3 weeks once I set myself to it. Life happened :3
> 
> I have updated the first parts some, because I'm a better writer now (how time flies) and reading the first part made me cringe about myself a bit. Not really new information, though I changed some minor details to fit the timeline in this part.
> 
>  
> 
> **This part is marked as Mature because there is sex implied along the way, an actual sex scene somewhere in there, and short descriptions of wounds and blood.**
> 
>  
> 
> Most of everything has been written and edited, also I'm not patient, so I will be posting a chapter every day or so. Enjoy! :)

“So you’re leaving again?”

If there was an attempt to disguise the bitterness in his voice, it was a weak one. Jaime had been mostly silent during the drive back from the museum, Brienne realized then. So focused on her thoughts and the implications of their discovery, she had probably seemed already far away from Kingsland.

She made quick mental calculations as she greeted an excited Oath when they stepped into his apartment, watching him sullenly retreat to his bedroom.

“Well, not yet,” she answered. “Probably in 2, 3 weeks. I will be contacting the Evenstar Foundation if Maege hasn’t yet, and I’d like to review some of the documents the museum holds. This information could bring them into a new light. Also,” she added after wiping dog saliva from her face, flopping down on the couch, “we’ll have to see when your work might be able to spare you for ten days.”

Silence echoed from the other room. Jaime slowly edged out of the relative darkness the unopened blinds had contained, avoiding her eyes. She’d thought the idea would have made him happier.

“I can’t afford - “

“Jaime - “

“ _ I can’t afford _ that, Brienne. Not to take that much time off  _ and  _ go to Tarth.” He met her gaze then, crossing his arms. “And it was made pretty clear from the start,” he continued as she opened her mouth to argue, “that we would each pay for our own stuff.”

She sighed, deflating a little. Oath pressed her head on her lap with a soft whine, obtaining absent-minded scratches in return.

“I've  _ only just _ returned from a two-week trip, and you've been insufferable the whole time. And I say that with a lot of affection,” she added when he looked away again. “It hasn't been fun for me either, by the way. You - “

She stopped, trying to find the right words. She had never really had to explain herself on that level before. “ _ I missed you _ , Jaime, and very often during that time, I wished you would have been there with me. I wanted to share that with you. And now,” she continued, standing up and closing the distance between them, “now that we’re starting...  _ this _ , I would rather be able not to worry that I’m screwing things up with you for the whole two weeks.”

He raised his guilty green eyes to her, and she knew of the ongoing battle between pride and affection behind them.

“You said you wouldn’t ask me to choose.” She realized it had the vague sounding of a threat or of a warning as she said it. “I want both. I can afford both.”

Straightening up, he tried to defend his point. “That’s not - I never meant - “

“That’s what it comes down to otherwise,” Brienne interjected. “Either I go and we’ll be miserable apart, or I stay and I’ll be restless from not pursuing this, and you’ll end up feeling guilty about it. Can you appreciate, just this once, the advantages that having landed a Targaryen affords you?” she asked with a smirk, hoping he would take the hint.

He held her gaze for a moment, then sighed theatrically. “...I doubt it’s going to end up being ‘just this once’. You’re probably going to con me into changing my whole wardrobe, redecorating my flat - “

She pulled him to her, laughing. “Well, it’s not my fault if your tastes are lacking.”

Jaime leaned into her with a kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “I taste just fine,” he whispered with a grin.

“That’s not - “ He swallowed the rest of her sentence, pulling her back towards the bedroom. She let herself be led until his calves bumped into the edge of the bed. Pulling away slightly, lips just out of reach, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the shadows. She needed confirmation that they had actually agreed, or there would be talks until they did.

He seemed to take a second to understand what she wanted, but relented when he did. “I will go to Tarth with you,” he conceded.

“We,” she corrected. “ _ We _ will go to Tarth. And we’re going to find out what happened to the Maid and the Lion together.”

“Yes, my Lady.” His voice had dropped back to a husk, sending shivers through her spine. “Do I get a reward for that?”

“How did I end up with a second dog?”

 

 

While being a Targaryen afforded  _ her _ many advantages, Brienne generally preferred the ones that kept her away from limelights. She could have had the use of her father’s private jet for a good part of the traveling she did for her research, but that would have been a bit too high profile for her tastes. She enjoyed the relative anonymity in which she could go about her visits, even if that often meant people were quick to judge her on her looks.

And anyway, they still did that knowing of her heritage.

Once time off was arranged with Jaime’s employer, she booked two first-class seats for Stormsend, and regular ones for the shorter, smaller flight that would take them from the Stormlands capital to Evenfall, the coastal metropole of Tarth. The modest hotel she usually stayed at had apologized at length for not having anything else available than her usual queen-size suite available, due to the high season, but she’d assured the clerk that they’d be perfectly fine.

They had roughly three weeks before their departure, and Brienne could see that her companion was getting a bit more anxious by the day.

“Do I need a passport?” He’d previously had one for a vacation to Dorne just out of high school, with Cersei, but it had expired since. And there had been no need, until then, to renew it.

“You don’t,” Brienne had reassured him. “We stay within Dragonsland. But we’ll have one made anyway, just in case. It’s usually easier to travel with one.” Jaime hadn’t argued, though she hadn’t missed the slightly uneasy look he’d had when she paid for the rush order.

“Is Oath going back to the daycare?” He’d been her keeper for the previous trips, but clearly that was not an option now.

“I was actually thinking of taking her along,” her owner had replied. “A few days are fine, but two full weeks, she gets bored of not being home. I usually take her on holidays, and the hotel is used to her, so that shouldn’t cause problem.” Her pet passport had been updated recently, with the necessary veterinary stipulations for travel. 

“How long is the flight going to be?” The tone had been meant to sound casual, but clearly that was stressing him more than he’d admit.

“Under an hour and a half for the first part, then we have a layover of about two hours. Then a bit more than an hour,” Brienne explained. “Usually I take the ferry when I visit the island, but it takes nearly twelve hours, and since we’re limited in time, I thought it best to fly. Are you going to be okay?”

Jaime had tried to play it off as simple curiosity, pretending to focus again on the football match on TV, but it was plain to see that he was nervous. He didn’t protest when she came to straddle his lap, effectively getting his attention.

“Flying scares a lot of people,” she said, trailing her hands down his shirt as he took a deep breath. “I know I can’t convince you that it’s not frightening, but I’m going to be right there with you. You’re doing this for me, and I really,  _ really _ appreciate it.” She pulled at the fabric to raise the hem, sliding her thumbs on the skin of his stomach.

He cocked an eyebrow, trying to hide a smirk. “Are you trying to distract me?”

She grinned mischievously, licking her lips. “I don’t know. Is it working?”

There was a short staring contest, then he suddenly straightened up, startling her, sitting forward and pulling her closer in a single movement. Brienne had to admire its fluidity: very few men would have had the strength the pull that off considering her bulk. She’d thrown her arms around his shoulders to keep her balance, and brought them back to his neck once he settled down. He still hadn’t shaved his beard, and she sifted her fingers through it, lightly massaging his jaw.

He closed his eyes, a content smile spreading on his lips. “The things I do for love,” he purred quietly. There was an almost imperceptible hitch in both her breathing and her moves: they had yet to discuss the new nature or headings of their relationship. She knew what she wanted, but that was also something she was used to not getting.

The shift had not gone unnoticed, and he bore his gaze into hers. “I would have gone with you even just as a friend,” he stated simply.

Brienne smiled. “Were we ever  _ just _ friends?” Looking back, it felt more like it had been  _ waiting _ .

“Maybe in another life,” Jaime mused. “Perhaps the Maid and the Lion were friends once.” He leaned in to kiss her neck, his breath making her shiver.

“Mmmm... I don’t think so. I think they were adversaries, then grudging allies. Then he sent her on a quest with priceless gifts to aid her, making her some embodiment of his honour. That’s far beyond friendship.”

Teeth gently nipped at her collarbone. “Wouldn’t he have tried to keep her close, if he wanted her that much then? I know  _ I _ wouldn’t be sending you away.”

“Ah, that’s where you think like a man. And also where you’re wrong.” She pulled back, framing his face with her hands. “Do you really think that she only left because he asked her to? She held her vows above all else, and she had promised to find the Stark daughters. To  _ their mother. _ She only pledged that anew to the Lion, which in my opinion also points that it was much more than friendship on her part as well.”

“And you don’t think she would have stayed if he had begged her to?”

“He wouldn’t have asked. Because by then he knew how important it was to her, to who she was as a person, to pursue that. Perhaps she would have stayed, but it would have been a betrayal to her own morals to do so. He wouldn’t have demanded that of her.”

“Huh.” Jaime’s hands had come to rest on her wrists, raising her arms back over his shoulders, before embracing her and pulling her flush against him. “Maybe he should have gone with her, then.”

The parallel was not lost on Brienne, and she beamed victoriously at him. “He probably should have. See, we can learn a lot from history.”

 

 

The flights were as unpleasant as Jaime had expected them to be. Being pressed into the seat by the force of the take-offs and landings made his heart beat uncontrollably fast, making him break into a cold sweat every time.

And they still had two more to take to go home.

The experience still didn’t seem as bad as it had been all those years ago to Sunspear with Cersei. She had been annoyed by his fear, enough so that she’d somewhat snubbed him for the first few days of their vacation. He’d been disoriented from the flight and the heat, and had it not been for his friend Addam, who’d come along with his own girlfriend at the time, he would probably have ended up lost in Dorne.

In contrast, Brienne had seemed perfectly content to have her hand held in a death grip on all four occasions, soothing him each time the ordeal was over. He’d tried to distract himself from the distress by thinking back of her straddling him on the sofa, or in bed, before realizing that it could only bring about another sort of discomfort.

He finally exited the last plane shaken, and was made to sit outside with their driver, cool water in hand, while his girlfriend retrieved their belongings. A large, grating tongue greeted him some twenty minutes later, and Oath plopped her long, white front legs on his lap. Something familiar, at last.

After reassurances that he was fine, the hired car drove them to the coast, dropping them off at a weathered building on the seafront. The Sapphire Bay hotel was a relatively small establishment, that prided itself more of the home-like comfort of its rooms than of any luxury.

They were greeted by the owners themselves, the Mertyns, who were clearly aware of their patron’s status despite using her traveling name.

“Miss Hightower! Lovely to see you again. I hope you had a pleasant journey?” The tallest of the couple, a dark-haired man by the name of Renly, eyed Jaime’s still pallid skin with some concern.

“It went well enough, but it’s been quite tiring,” Brienne replied, implying that they both needed rest.

The shorter host, Loras, all but elbowed his husband. “Of course,” he agreed, “Ren will show you to your room. Again, we’re so sorry we couldn’t accommodate a larger suite - “

“We booked quite at the last minute, I’m actually surprised there was anything available at all. I was very happy to be able to show your establishment to my friend.”

“She repeatedly praised your services, actually,” Jaime added with a conspiratorial look. “She would probably not have relented until our next visit if we couldn't have stayed here.”

The proud owners’ expressions was worth the white lie, he thought, but Brienne’s face stayed equal. They were ushered upstairs in happy chatter, but her mood seemed to have definitely dampened.

“Did I say something wrong?” They had barely arrived and things were already threatening to go awry. 

She smiled softly. “No, no. I'm just tired.” He reached her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Please don't do that. Talk to me.”

“Hmmm.” She paused, and he could see that the travelling had actually made her quite weary. “I just... usually try to be a bit more, huh,  _ measured _ in flattery. I do appreciate their services, but... My status makes a lot of people do stupid things to please or impress me. To other people's disadvantage, usually, and I'd rather avoid that. I can afford to rent a luxury suite at the Highgarden. Most visitors who would book at the Sapphire Bay can’t, and I don't want the Mertyns to start cancelling reservations to accommodate me. Even if they have the best intentions.”

“Oh.” That made sense. “I’m sorry, I didn’t consider - I didn’t think - “ She cut him off with a kiss.

“And that’s perfectly normal. That’s part of the things very few people have to take into account, and most of them don’t actually care. I choose to, and that’s my... well, I wouldn’t say burden, but responsibility.” She hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’m not mad at you in any way, and I appreciate your intention of flattering them.”

Jaime pulled her flush, tightening his arms around her. “I’ll take my lead from you from now on then. But,” he added, “you do know they probably kept this room empty since your last visit, right?”

A chuckle, then a sigh. “I know.”


	2. History and the City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short tour of Evenfall.

Brienne had purposefully chosen to fly in on a Saturday, so that they’d have the rest of the weekend to visit the city of Evenfall before starting their research at the Evenstar Foundation the following Monday. Their late afternoon arrival had left them exhausted, and they only departed from the hotel with Oath in the early evening, after a vaguely restful nap.

The coastal city derived its name from the ancient seat of the Tarth holdings, though the vestiges of the Evenfall Hall were located a good half-hour north of the current centre of the metropole. After the Dragon Wars, it had welcomed a large number of migrants, desperate to find better conditions than the lands ravaged by fighting. The conflicts had come just at the wrong time, destroying an important part of the provisions made for the harsh winter that followed. One of the last to span many years.

The island, in comparison, had been spared battles, and enjoyed a slightly kinder climate, due to warm currents from the Narrow Sea. There had been still relatively few resources for all, but the Lady of Tarth, having seen the results of the war on the continent, had been keen to help all those who sought refuge. Provided they intended to abide by the laws.

Following the passing of the Maid - it was said she had lived well into her seventies, never having to take up a sword again - the ancestral seat of the Tarth line had been passed on to some of the minor Lords of the Stormlands. None could ever truly adapt to the island’s conditions, however, and some hundred years later, it had been abandoned. 

The town had expanded and flourished in the meantime, taking advantage of the strong, healthy forests that covered the lands when spring had finally returned, and the rebuilding of Westeros started in earnest, nearly overshadowing the long-standing marble industry of the island. Taxes were levied when trading resumed between the mainland and Essos, as Tarth’s location and increased wealth made it a prime stop both for trading and for restocking on the way to and from Kingsland.

When the Royal Family abdicated in favour of installing a democracy some hundred and fifty years later, the governing body for the island had managed to gain significant autonomy from the continental Eastern Stormlands, arguing that most decisions by the provincial government would be heavily influenced by representatives from the mainland, who would not understand the realities and needs of the islanders.

That autonomy was contested five decades prior to Brienne‘s first visit, when new prospecting techniques brought to light several sapphire lodes, making good on the island’s centuries-old nickname. To that day, its government held fast onto its limited independence.

The older part of the city, nearest to the sea, still showcased a myriad of weathered stone buildings and narrow cobbled alleys. Rising sea levels were not yet threatening, but a few decades more would force relocation further inland. In the meantime, troves of tourists enjoyed the last lights of the summer evening in the streets and on the terrasses, sipping local beer and wine and carrying fresh fish and chips on their strolls.

Out of his companion’s recommendations, Jaime chose a small Tyroshi restaurant for a light meal after ambling through the old city maze for over an hour. Now that his stomach had finally settled some, thanks in part to the sea air turning cool, he was famished. They settled at the tables outside, Oath curled at their feet.

“How often have you been here?,” he asked between bites of spicy pork. She clearly knew her way around.

“Not that often,” Brienne started to explain. “Well, I’ve come on the island over a dozen times for work, but only twice for a vacation. That’s the only times I’ve actually had the occasion to really explore the city. I’d get too engrossed in my research otherwise.”

“You? Impossible.  _ Ow _ ,” he mocked as she playfully kicked him under the table. “It’s a nice atmosphere. Reminds me a bit of the port in Kingsland.”

“It has a lot of influence from Essos though,” she added as she finished her plate of chicken. “It’s a bit more visible in the more modern areas of the city. You’ll see tomorrow.”

Jaime groaned as he stretched, and she restrained herself from tickling the exposed skin of his stomach. She vaguely wondered how well isolated the hotel walls were.

“So what’s the plan?” Brienne was pulled out of her thoughts by the smirk in his voice, looking up to see that he hadn’t missed her reverie. “I mean, for tomorrow.” Fighting an incoming blush, she cleared her throat.

“There’s uh, the Maiden’s Sept in the eastern part of the old city,” she said, forcing herself to look away, “and from there we can go towards the centre. The architecture downtown is an amazing amalgam of different cultures. And we could visit the Tarth Museum, if you like.”

There was a vague air of disappointment on Jaime’s face as he pulled his shirt back into place. “Isn’t that where we’re going on Monday?”

“I - “ The bills that their waitress had brought them were snatched from her before she could argue. “We’ll be meeting with Catelyn Umber, the director of the Evenstar Foundation. They’ve been working to preserve the memory of the island, with a particular focus on the Tarth family. The museum is their realization, but we’re probably not going to be touring it then.” She watched him pay with an eyebrow raised. “Mrs. Umber will probably have already pulled most of the documents that might be of interest from the exhibits.”

“Hmmmm.” Jaime took his change back from their hostess and handed her a tip with a smile, which made the woman blush. “So this is going to be two weeks of looking at old documents?”

That was not an entirely unfair way to put it, but Brienne felt needled by the wording. Her tone reflected it. “There will be a lot of that involved, yes. Some of them were digitized, if that makes a difference. There will also be paintings.”

She entirely deserved the annoyed frown he gave her, and she knew it. “I’m sorry. I’m being petty, and condescending,” she apologized. “I know this doesn’t exactly sound exciting to you. I get that. It’s pretty boring to the vast majority of people. I just hope that I can find a way to... to show you what I see.”

Jaime’s expression had softened, but he stared at her for a moment. She was about to try and fill the awkward silence when he sighed. With a mocking smirk, he rose from his seat, leaning over to her to kiss the top of her head. “Gods, you’re such a nerd.”

Pulled away from the restaurant’s terrasse, she rolled her eyes but hung on to his hand, Oath carrying her leash on their heels. She was loathe to admit it even to herself, but his interaction with the waitress had unnerved a part of her she thought she’d gotten rid of. She had the life she wanted, with the people she wanted around, including Jaime, and the surest way to lose any of that was to become paranoid that it would be taken away from her.

Brienne snuggled closer as they walked back towards the hotel, despite the clumsiness it produced. She could feel his eyes on her, but couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. She hated the wave of insecurity the situation had set in motion. Her confidence was stronger than that.

Rather than heading back directly, Jaime guided them to a railing by the seafront. The sun had finally set, casting the horizon and the water from the fiery hues of the sunset back into the various shades of blue announcing the night. The air was salty and humid, and she didn’t protest when he enveloped her shoulders with his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wrapping herself back into him as he buried his face in her neck, but he cut her off before she could explain why.

“For being a nerd? No need to be, it’s a minor flaw, really.” There was no smile in his voice, but there was a tenderness that confirmed he was aware of her turmoil.

She appreciated the attempt to alleviate the mood, but she needed honesty far more in that moment. “I don’t know what I was expecting for this trip. This is probably not going to be nearly as fascinating for you as it is for me, even if I know you’re interested.” He pulled away to look at her, but didn’t interrupt her again. “I was probably just selfish in insisting that you come along, even though you hate flying, and this might end up being really boring for you.”

His thumbs were tracing gentle circles on her back through the fabric of her shirt, and he stayed quiet for a moment. Then he kissed her nose and pressed his forehead against hers with a sigh.

“Maybe. And I was probably  _ really _ selfish in accepting to let you pay for the most part of this, because I did want to see Tarth, and I really didn't want to watch you leave without me again, and I will probably end up as a distraction or worse, a burden, while you try to pursue your passion. Just so I can spend some time with you and watch that very focused look you have when you’re reading something important. So I think I win on the selfishness competition.” He seemed satisfied with the light smile it painted on her lips. “I guess we call that a relationship.”

Brienne snorted as he grinned, pushing her back against the railing, kissing her deeply. She shivered after a moment, humidity seeping through their clothes, and Jaime pulled back with a suggestive gleam in his eyes. 

“So how thin are the hotel walls...?”


	3. The Sept And The Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne visit the Maiden's Sept, and start their research.

Light showers weaved in and out of the sky that Sunday, and Brienne was quite glad they’d left Oath at the hotel. Their plans didn’t include many activities that would allow dogs, and she knew that her pet would be perfectly content and docile in the lobby, keeping company to the front desk clerk.

Although Evenfall was the only municipality on Tarth who could be called a city, it was nowhere near as massive as Kingsland and its suburbs had become. They made relatively short work of visiting the centre, turning up at the Maiden’s Sept just after lunch. 

It was evidently one of the oldest buildings on the island, though restorations were still being made to ensure its perenniality. It was visible that it had initially been much smaller than it was now, as the architecture seemed a bit ill-designed: many elements appeared to be afterthoughts, creating an odd maze of doors and hallways that didn't quite belong.

While all of the Seven Gods were represented equally behind the altar, a tall marble sculpture of a female warrior stood by the entrance. At her feet, lit candles and small tokens had been left as offerings. 

“I thought you said this sept was dedicated to the Maiden,” Jaime whispered as they passed by praying visitors. “She looks more like the Warrior to me.”

She had a little smile at that. The representation wore both armour and skirts, a sword and a flower, and unlike most effigies of the usually docile goddess, she stood proud, eyes straight to the horizon towards the sea.

“The good people of Tarth have simply amended their vision of the Maiden with what -  _ who _ they saw as a crucial part of their history, and survival. Rumours say that she was really all that tall, too.”

The stone lady nearly reached eight feet, and though records insisted that the Maid  _ had _ been uncommonly tall, it seemed unlikely that she would drawn up to that height.

“Wouldn’t she have disagreed with being portrayed as a god though? That seems a bit... grandiose for her character,” Jaime argued as they paced the hallways. Various pieces of art were displayed along the walls, reminding him of the museum where he and Brienne had first met. A painting hung at mid-level on the wall caught his attention and he stopped, while she strolled on unawares. 

“She would have protested and strongly advised against it,” she answered. “But there is little you can do when devoted people set their mind on something. Some will have taken that as an affront to the gods, but as no catastrophe ever supported their fear, they would have been dismissed. It seemed to have been a beacon of - Jaime?”

He was still enraptured by the artwork, which appeared to depict a weathered, middle-aged man, a younger, taller one, and a child, all blond to varying degrees. Three generations, perhaps?

The painting was relatively small, so details of their faces were ambiguous traits. The younger man, a large, dark red mark on his cheek, had the kid sitting on his lap, while the older one stood to the right of their chair, his left hand on his companion’s shoulder. All were garbed modestly, though not as smallfolk. While there was a medieval quality to the style, it seemed relatively recent.

“What is it?” He ignored the question, looking for a description for the piece, coming back to the image when he could find none. Brienne repeated her question, which remained unanswered for a few moments more.

“Are we allowed to take pictures?” Jaime was already taking his smartphone out. 

“I think so, but why?” She leaned forward, trying to find what he found so fascinating. “There are probably actual high-res photographs or scans of it online, actually.” She moved out of the way while he snapped a few images, growing impatient.

Satisfied, her companion pointed to the standing man in the painting, more specifically to his right hand, or lack thereof. “Looks like he lost something.”

She stared at it for a long moment, straightening up with a slight frown. “I understand where you’re getting at, but that’s... not likely. Losing limbs was not uncommon - ”

He sighed, frustrated. “You know, for someone who’s obsessed, you’re awfully quick to dismiss a lot of potential trails.”

“That painting is untitled, undated, and there’s not even an artist credited. It looks like it was painted in the last hundred years or so, which I know because I’ve studied a lot of art for my research,  _ because _ I’m obsessed. The Lion lived some four centuries ago. Besides,” she added, “who would be the people with him?”

“The Maid, and their child,” he shrugged, watching her roll her eyes.

“She was called ‘ _ The Beauty _ ’, Jaime. That,” she pointed, “is a  _ man _ .”

Keeping quiet long enough for Brienne to consider the discussion closed, he followed after her as she resumed walking in their original direction.

“ _ You  _ could look like a man in a painting that size,” he offered, knowing there were good chances it could backfire, but unable to let go. She stopped with a sigh, her back still to him, and he feared he might have unintentionally struck a more painful cord than he would ever have intended. “I just mean - “

She turned to look at him, her expression similar to that of a teacher schooling a child. “It only just came to light, in a very restricted circle, that the Lion  _ might _ have lived on Tarth beyond the Dragon Wars.  _ We don’t know for sure yet _ ,” she said in a firmer tone when he tried to speak up, “and whoever made that painting would have had access to very privileged, and apparently secret, information to paint that  _ if _ it’s even meant to be their family.”

“Which makes it all the more exciting,” he argued with a knowing look. Brienne appeared unimpressed. “Just, don’t dismiss it entirely, okay? We never know,” he finished, walking up to her to continue on their way.

“Sure,” she said with a smirk, taking hold her his hand, “as long as you can accept that we might, indeed,  _ never know _ .”

He shrugged. “Okay. Can we ask about the painting’s author though? You know, just in case.”

“And there I was, worried that you would find it all so very dull.”

 

Catelyn Umber met them at the entrance of the museum the next morning. While easily dwarfed by the couple she greeted, the woman nonetheless exuded a presence and authority that probably came in handy in any administrative position. In many ways, she reminded Brienne of Mrs Norrey, though slightly younger: her short auburn hair had only started greying.

Her husband, Brandon, was the chief curator of the institution, and while busy, he had extended an invitation through her to personally show the exhibits to Jaime, should the women become too focused in technical discussions.

They made their way towards an area restricted to staff, in a remarkably quick pace that Mrs. Umber seemed to have no trouble following.

“I’ve looked through the records for ravens sent and received around the times you asked about, Miss Targaryen, but the messages you mention do not appear anywhere. Now I’m not doubting the Kingsland documents, but ours will not provide much help on that front I’m afraid.”

“The response that was sent from King’s Landing spoke of ‘ _ a man dead _ ’. Could there have been special instructions not to record those messages?” Brienne asked. If the Lion’s existence had been a secret, it would stand to reason that the fewer the traces, the easier to keep him hidden.

The older woman had a vague air of annoyance. “It’s not impossible, I suppose, even though it would have been a good reason for it. We’re lucky to have as many documents as we do, but they will only ever tell a partial truth.”

Brienne nodded in agreement, all too aware of the limitations of history and of its archives. Photocopies were scattered on the table of the room they settled in, the vast majority written in a hardly decipherable script that threatened a headache the more Jaime attempted to make sense of it. His companions seemed to have none of the trouble he had, diving right into discussion.

Trying to follow their conversation soon proved futile, and he simply looked for documents that were legible to him. Something that looked like an ancient lease for a land that neighboured Evenfall Hall, the aforementioned raven records, birth registries, marriage ones... Each of those told of a part of not just the island’s history, but also of  _ persons _ . Real, breathing human beings with aspirations and pains and fears, who had perhaps walked right where he now sat, before there was even a building.

People who had lived and died, and been every bit as complex as he was.

His eyes trailed down several pages of names, looking for some that might sound familiar. Addams, Peters, several Briennes, Roberts, Jeynes and their variations. Many Tyroshi and Pentoshi surnames among the Westerosi ones: Tumitis, Waynwood, Myrakis, Adarys, Hill, Westerling, Clegane...

“Wasn’t Hill a bastard name in the Westerlands?” he asked out loud. The two women looked up in unison, but barely glanced at him before looking at their own papers again.

“It was. A lot of migration throughout the conflicts that the Dragon Wars ended brought plenty of names from all over the continent onto the island. Hill is not very common, but not unheard of around here,” Mrs. Umber answered absentmindedly. 

Clegane was also from the Sunset Sea’s coast, Jaime remembered. There had been two infamous brothers of that name around that time. While he couldn’t recall details, things had not ended well for either of them.

The rest of the morning was spent in that fashion, as Brienne and Mrs. Umber generally kept to their own deliberations and answered his occasional questions. By the time they broke out for lunch, he was feeling useless and vaguely ignorant.

It made perfect sense that they were far ahead of him, considering they were already familiar with the documents and their context, while he was a complete novice. Perhaps they had hoped to have a fresh point of view to take on the material, but it was pointless if he couldn’t  _ read _ most of it.

He opted to spend the afternoon visiting the rest of the museum with Brandon Umber, who greeted him with a sympathetic look. “They do get pretty deep into their world, don’t they?”

“That’s an understatement.” The man had a particularly strong grip, Jaime noticed as he shook his hand, but he had a friendly demeanour. He was tall and robust, with dark hair and a sharp grin that easily reached his grey eyes. 

“You learn to not get in their way, with time,” he added with a conspiratorial expression. “Or so it is with my missus. Have you known Miss Targaryen long?” he asked, leading the younger man towards the exhibits.

“Not quite a year. We bonded over the painting of the Maid and the Lion at the Kingsland museum, actually.”

“Oh? I’m surprised we haven’t heard of you before then. Of course, she doesn’t expand much on her personal life, but my wife holds dearly onto the hope that she will find someone to settle down with, so she asks about her love life every time the lady visits. She didn’t say anything last time, which was some six months ago.”

“Ah, well,  _ this _ is... relatively recent. We’ve haven’t actually discussed the exact nature of things, even. We became close almost immediately, but... yeah.”

“I see.”

Jaime was shown every almost every piece, coupled with comprehensive explanations and interesting trivia. His guide evidently knew each exhibit inside out, and proved to be quite excellent at communicating his extensive knowledge in an approachable manner. His favourite subjects seemed to be horses and weapons, and he seized the occasion once he presented a display of longswords.

“So I’ve heard that Miss Targaryen might have found the Maid’s sword?”

That was uncertain ground. Brienne had not expanded on who she had briefed on the matter, and her companion didn’t want to speak out of turn. It was also only scheduled to be sent to her within days of their return from Tarth. 

Before he could find a noncommittal answer to give, Mr. Umber appeared to understand the situation.

“Ah, well, I know that she has been hoping to find it for a long time. Has she ever mentioned what she would do with the blade? Surely she wouldn’t keep it on her walls!” He had a booming laugh that Jaime only half-echoed.

“I really don’t know, to be honest. She never really discussed it, she tends to keep to practical matters in terms of her research.” The other man nodded knowingly. “I know she has close ties with the museum back home, but this piece is... special, to say the least.”

“Quite right, it is. Well, if she ever mentions it, do let her know that we would be thrilled to preserve it here for her!” The offer was made to the wrong person, Jaime thought, but he was also able to recognize that the apparently nonchalant conversation was only the introduction to what promised to be earnest campaigning to get Oathkeeper. Brandon Umber seemed to be a man ready to obtain whatever he wanted.

He would have a fierce opponent in Brienne.

The rest of the week went along pretty much in the same way, though Jaime made an effort to try and decipher more writing. All of their research more or less amounted to looking for a needle in a haystack: they hoped for a hint to suggest their hypothesis of the Lion having lived on Tarth was plausible beyond Mrs. Norrey’s original findings, but the form of it was as good a guess as anything.

Brienne was exhausted when they finally called it a day on Friday afternoon, though she still carried out copies of documents home with them to the hotel. Jaime had half a mind to hide them, just so they could actually relax. Her mind had been turning everything around in all possible angles, both day and night.

It had been an odd experience for both of them, to learn and sleep by someone again. She’s been used to sharing her space with Oath, but a human body curled against her was different, and not something she had experienced in very long spurs at a time. Whereas leaving Cersei, for him, had brought awkward emptiness to his bed after nearly a decade. 

His new lover was nothing like her, either: while affection had felt like a due with the former, he truly felt like an equal in Brienne’s arms. Even more so since that first Monday on the island, as she did everything she could to keep his insecurity at bay, while he had been doing his best to ease her fitful sleep. On their fifth night, he’d taken to restraining her in his arms so she would settle back down peacefully.

They spent the weekend visiting some more of the city, taking Oath along for long walks through the parks. Their group was a strange sight, appearing oversized compared to their surroundings and attracting a lot of curious looks.

“I was thinking of driving to Evenfall Hall on Tuesday,” Brienne announced at lunch that Sunday. They’d settled on the terrasse of a Dornish café, hoping that the grey clouds that had been gathering would not pour themselves down before they at least finished their meal.

“Why didn’t we go this weekend?” The weather had been kind enough, and they would have had plenty of time.

“Tourists,” she answered simply. Going to the ruins of the castle tended to be a near-spiritual experience for her, and she always preferred to avoid chatty groups of visitors disappointed in the state of the landmark.

“Fair enough. Are we taking Oath?” The Great Dane lifted her head at that, peering curiously at her owner over the table. There seemed to be some deliberations in Brienne’s eyes, as she stared down her canine companion. 

“Yes,” she replied after a moment. Somehow, she felt that she had to.

Droplets started to fall just as they were leaving the restaurant, carrying pastries for breakfast the next day. They hurried back to the hotel, managing to remain relatively dry in the summer downpour.

Jaime watched her settle back down on the bed with the documents she’d brought from the museum. She had worked extensively with Mrs. Norrey before their departure from Kingsland, practically revising everything she knew about the Maid and the Lion, the Dragon Wars, Tarth. And still, whatever she needed to find to confirm that one intuition she had held onto for years still eluded her.

He could see the tired frustration behind her focus, and he wished he could do more to help. Something needled him from the back of his mind, and he recalled a question he’d thought of one night, as he’d tightened his embrace around her sleeping form.

"You said that it was uncommon for births to be registered without parents." She looked up at him, slight confusion on her face from being pulled out of her thoughts.

"It is. It's usually because they're abandoned orphans."

"So at the times the Maid lived, such children would have no surname?"

"No, they wouldn't,” she confirmed. “Or they'd be given a bastard name from their region."

"Huh." He’d thought as much, which was possibly why that name had caught his attention.

"What is it?"

"...there was an entry, in the birth registries, and I haven't been able to take it off my mind. A girl, some three or four years into Daenerys's reign, no parents are listed, but... It would be the wrong surname for Tarth. She’s listed as Hill."

Brienne blinked at him, taking a moment to piece his meaning together. "You think...?"

He shrugged. "It could make sense. The Maid wasn't allowed to claim a child as her own if she married him, and the Lion had no name to give. They might have wanted to hide their progeny in some way to protect them from retaliation against the Lannister line."

It was thin, but it sounded like the best trail they had had all week. "Have you seen mention of her anywhere else? Marriages, deaths?"

"I don't think so, but I can only read about a tenth of the documents. You and Mrs. Umber might have a better shot at this than me."

She nodded absentmindedly, looking back down at her papers for some time, but Jaime could tell her mind was elsewhere. He picked up the novel he’d started, sitting beside her on the bed, against the headboard.

“What was the name?”

He’d already immersed himself in the detective thriller when she turned to him.

“Alysanne. Alysanne Hill.”

She had an odd expression, with a slight frown, before returning again to her documents. He felt there was more to it, but decided not to press. She spoke again, though not looking away from her stack.

“The Maid had a sister with that name, who died in infancy. I always thought it was pretty.” She paused, then added, quietly: “When I was a child and I thought I might have kids one day, I would definitely have chosen Alysanne for a daughter.”

Her tone was meant to be neutral, but he detected a guarded sadness in it. She really was exhausted, in more ways than one. Leaning forward, Jaime took her papers in a slow gesture, gathering them to place them on the nightstand with his book. He pulled her wrist, and her body to his own, lying back down as she leaned against his side.

They stayed silent for a while as he stroked circles on her back, eventually bending forward to kiss her head. “Alysanne  _ is _ quite pretty. I like it,” he said simply, and he thought he felt her smile against his chest, though shei didn’t answer.

He let a few moments pass before speaking up again. “Is this a good time to discuss the...  _ nature _ of our relationship?”

She sighed softly, keeping quiet, and he had to cock his head to the side to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep. Her blue eyes looked back up at him, waiting.

_ ‘What are we’ _ felt like the wrong question, and he eventually settled on, “What do you want out of this?”

Her answer was almost immediate, if not enlightening. “What do  _ you _ want?”

Jaime leaned his head back down on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.  _ I asked you first _ , he thought, but tried to form a coherent reply nonetheless.

“I want  _ this _ . I’m in it for the long run,” he stated, breathing deeply. His hand reached for hers, resting on his chest as he continued. “I want my best friend. I want to hold you, comfort you, make you laugh, and kiss you.  _ Everywhere, _ ” he added with a smirk, and he felt her chuckle. “I want to grow old with you and have a family, even if that family ends up being you, me, and dogs. And maybe cats.”

Brienne didn’t respond, but cuddled closer, burying her face in his shirt. He let a beat pass, until it was clear she didn’t intend to answer the original question herself. “Is that... agreeable?” he risked.

She hummed her approval, and he admitted that considering the state she was in, it was a good enough confirmation for the time being. He returned to massaging her back in gentle motions as she relaxed against him, but her breathing stayed the same.

“Have you ever thought about a boy’s name?” he asked quietly. She answered with amused guilt.

“Tyrion.”

“Wow, that’s... old-fashioned,” Jaime laughed. It had fallen out of style nearly a century earlier.

“I know, but... I like it.”

“Well, maybe he’d be the first of many. A trend-setter,” he mused. “Alysanne and Tyrion Targaryen-Swift.”

Brienne lifted her head to look at him, a curious expression on her face. She smiled after a moment, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips, that he returned happily. It had seemed entirely too long since he’d seen her smile in earnest.

She would keep her hopes in cautious check, he knew, but as she settled back against him, her breathing slowing down, he hoped that knowing they were heading in the same direction would assuage some of her fears.


	4. An Oath Fulfilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frustrations and discoveries.

Mrs. Umber proved sceptical when they explained their theory that Monday morning, but promised she’d keep an eye out for the name nonetheless. Jaime returned to his stack of documents legible to him, going through every single sheet meticulously.

His mind wandered to the painting in the Maiden’s Sept, and wondered once again if it depicted the Lion, the Maid and their cub. It felt so  _ real _ , so accurate, not unlike the way their musings about the Kingsland painting that had brought them together.

Truth be told, even if it had been said in jest on the night of Brienne’s return, he couldn’t quite shake off the idea of reincarnation. Of course, it was easy to see what he wanted in anything and he knew it, so it was half a logical conclusion, half a wish. He still feared he wouldn’t be enough for her, and the idea of having shared a previous life with her seemed like encouragement that he could be. Might have been.

She seemed less focused that day, canvassing the same papers over and over, sometimes gazing at them without seeing the words.

“You look distracted,” he asked with a light bump of the elbow when they took a break in the museum’s café in mid-afternoon. She’d been staring off in the distance, lost in thought, and he wondered where she’d gone.

“Sorry. Just a bit tired.” She had yet to drink a sip of the coffee she’d ordered, and didn’t seem all that interested in it.

“Do you want to call it a day? We could go by the boardwalk with Oath and soak in some sun?” The more the day went on, the more he felt like she was in danger of sinking too deep into that research, with very little benefit to her emotional state.

She sighed, saying nothing. They hadn’t found anything more, and she was probably torn between the little time they had left and the need to get away from the frustration. It was a good thing they were heading to the castle the next day.

Jaime wrapped his arms around her waist from her side, pressing a kiss to her temple. She leaned into him with a weary smile, closing her eyes.

_ Perhaps this is all I need. Someone to love me like he does, and not be chasing ghosts across the sea. It would be so much simpler. _

She needed a break.

“Okay. Let’s run away together,” she mock-whispered, as a wild smile spread on his lips.

They briefly returned to the hotel to change into workout clothes, spending the best part of the next hour running a circuit in the old city. Jaime had slathered sun lotion liberally over her freckled skin, sneaking in a shoulder rub that didn’t go unnoticed, but he refused to let her help him.

“Oh, yes, I can just imagine it. Your hands all over me, and then I run behind you with a boner, staring at your thighs and dreaming they’re wrapped around me.”

She smacked his arm with a grin, but she didn’t mind running ahead of him. Exercise always helped her clear her head, even with feeling of Jaime’s gaze on her back. He had become surprisingly good at spotting the moments she needed to spend in silence or on her own, patiently waiting them out.

Pushing her anxieties aside, Brienne did her best to relax. The exertion helped some, the long, hot, shared shower even more so. They’d barely been together for a month, and they were still somewhat dancing around one another, testing pressure and touches and limits.

While she had thought that sex would do good to both her mind and body, she’d realized quickly under the water, as he pressed himself against her back, that she longed for something else, something softer. She’d stopped his wandering hands, turned around to face him and put her arms around his neck.

“Let’s - “  _ Cuddle? Be nice? Tender? Pet one another? _

After a few seconds of her searching for the right words in vain as he looked on curiously, he smiled, leaning in to kiss her. “Okay,” he simply whispered.

He stepped closer, reaching for soap and a sponge. “Yeah?” she questioned quietly.

Humming in response, he set himself to work, gently washing away the lotion he’d spread earlier, the sweat, the dust, the weariness, the frustration, until she was left with the contentment of the warmth and the touches. Eventually she took the sponge from him, returning the favour.

He hadn’t been kidding earlier about the effect she had on him, and she found herself easily giving into the soft demands of his hot mouth. After all, better now than after they ran out of hot water.

They hadn’t really felt comfortable being intimate while Oath was in proximity, which the confines of a hotel room had produced, but the separation of the bathroom had been good enough. It had been the longest they had gone, since her return from Asshai, without getting one another off. And she had had to admit that perhaps it had played into her brooding.

 

The following day started in a lighter mood, with an early rise to drive to Evenfall Hall. They had packed food for lunch, though they didn’t intend to stay the whole day; if the weather permitted, however, there were falls further north that were fantastic on a good day, less so under a heavy rainfall like the one that loomed in the forecast. 

The sun was already high when they arrived, as the summer solstice drew ever closer. The ground was muddy, as Brienne as expected from experience, and they donned rubber boots before heading to the fortifications.

While it was a historical landmark, it had not quite become so until late in the industrial revolution, having been left completely abandoned for over a century. It had been sturdily made, still, as many of the walls still stood. Whichever room still had a roof have been made inaccessible to the public, however, for fear it might crumble and endanger tourists.

People were free to visit the vestiges otherwise, under the patient surveillance of cameras to discourage vandalism. Dogs were permitted, as long as they didn’t damage the remains of the buildings, and that their owners picked up after them.

She gave Jaime a tour, having read practically everything that had been written about the ancestral seat. Though she wouldn’t have said it out loud, it had often pleased her to imagine the Maid walking the same paths they did now. With their newfound information, however, she wondered if the Lion would have helped her carry their child on their way to the sept...

He saw similar things, she knew, as he looked around with a slight expression of wonder. When it turned into a vaguely worried frown, she asked what was wrong.

Hesitating, he dismissed it at first. “It’s nothing. Just an odd... impression.”

She cocked an eyebrow. The very basis of their relationship had been an odd impression. “How so?”

Looking around, his eyes settled on a broken archway that led into a ceilingless room. “That would have been the armoury, right?” She nodded, curious. “And this was the training yard.” She waited for his explanation. He hesitated again, looking at her sideways. “You’re probably going to laugh, but... I’ve been here before. Or rather,” he corrected, “it’s how it feels.”

Brienne didn’t make fun of him: she had the same kind of certainty in front of the condemned sept, and told him as much. “Perhaps we’ve seen those places in pictures before,” she argued weakly, and he gave her that look that seemed to say,  _ will you please trust your instincts? _

He waved to the walls. “These don’t... really feel like ruins. I mean, I know they are, but...” Sighing with the frustration of being unable to put it into words, he deferred to their connection. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” she admitted after a moment. “Stained glass at the windows, with the wavering lights of candles by the altars.” It had been the same on all of her visits. “Though there is nothing there.”

“Exactly.” Jaime seemed relieved. “Training posts and shields and weapons left by the entrance to the armoury,” he pointed towards the archway.

They had no explanation for it, however, and it gave them little information. Whatever they saw in their minds was nothing uncommon for normal, medieval castle life. They walked on, unconsciously reaching for one another’s hand.

Oath had been following them quietly until they left the yard, and it took them several minutes to realize she wasn’t at their side anymore. Calling her produced no result, which was very unusual, and they tracked back to try and find her.

Standing on her hind legs, she was scratching at a high wall to the right of the archway they’d just left. Trying to order her down had no effect, and by the time they reached her, she’d almost dislodged a stone from it. Jaime pulled her back, and she let out a whine while Brienne inspected the damage. 

“I don’t understand, there’s nothing there.” From the traces of her claws on the wall, she’d been at it quite vigorously. The pet tried to lunge for it again, and they barely restrained her. “Oath, stop it!”

Jaime looked at her, then at the wall and the stone she had been working to move. “What did you see, girl?”

Her owner gave him a reproachful look. “Don’t encourage her!”

“She’s a dog, Brienne.” He went closer, to examine the space around the falling piece. “They see things we don’t.”

He couldn’t see the eye roll she gave him, though he would not have cared. He moved the heavy stone, ignoring her protest, placing it carefully on the ground. There was something lodged behind it, he saw, and he reached for it. 

Brienne seized his wrist, letting go of Oath who seemingly had no more interest for the wall, wandering off. He met her eyes with a questioning frown.

“If it’s an artefact, we need to call the museum.” Right, the chain of command and all that.

“Okay, but we should make sure it’s not a dead rat, or something.” She nodded after some hesitation, and he put put his hand over the object. “It’s leather,” he announced. Her eyes went wide, but he shrugged. “Could still be a dead rat.”

He pulled gently, producing a wince on  _ her _ face. He rolled his eyes with a knowing look. “Would you prefer to do it yourself?” he asked, as if speaking to a child. She glared at him as he gave her space.

Inching it towards her with as little friction as possible, she was soon able to see that it was a package, bound in oiled leather to keep it waterproof. Blinking, she let go once she was assured that it would not fall from its place, and dialed the museum while Jaime retrieved Oath.

Brandon Umber arrived less than an hour later, carrying a camera, measuring instruments, and a container lined with cotton. Brienne had kept near their finding, while Jaime had gone with the dog to meet the curator outside the grounds, helping him carry the material to the yard. 

He was less than impressed with the context of the discovery, shooting glares towards the Great Dane, who couldn't have cared less. They were better to work quickly, as thunderous clouds approached quickly. 

After taking several photographs of the location, including meters for a scale, Mr Umber donned gloves and set to remove the package. 

It was smaller in width and length than letter paper, and the leather had managed to hold on particularly well. The cavity had probably been sealed, the curator explained, leaving no access to pests, humidity, or additional bacteria. Thin cords wrapped around it kept it firmly bound, and he apologized for not wanting to open it elsewhere than in a controlled environment. 

Brienne agreed, and after safely placing the parcel in the box he had brought, they embarked to return to the city. Not wanting to incense Mr Umber further, they stopped by the hotel to leave Oath, who was subtly commended by Jaime when he thought her owner wasn’t looking.

He could tell his girlfriend was tense with anticipation, the sort that couldn’t quite be defused by humour, so he kept quiet, wondering what the bundle might contain. And why it was hidden that way.

Catelyn joined them in a dimly lit room as her husband cautiously untied the threads that kept the leather folded. The process was minutious, and the whole audience seemed to hold their breath. As the thick envelope was carefully unbent, it revealed a stack of parchment, looking old but undamaged, also packaged together with twine. Careful and practised handwriting covered the first page with black ink, and Mrs. Umber read the first few words aloud.

“ _ I, Brienne of Tarth - _ “

Time seemed to freeze. Documents written by the Maid were not rare as such, as she had produced many in her nearly forty years of governing the island. They all understood, however, that whatever those papers contained, it had been hidden for a reason.

It would have to be authenticated, of course, though the script was familiar enough to the experts by now to be recognized as hers. There seemed to be a good number of pages, and each would have to be inspected individually.

There was a rare impulse to trust in her intuition, and Brienne let herself believe that they were genuine. She had unconsciously gripped Jaime’s wrist quite painfully, but he was far too absorbed by the situation to care.

After a stunned silence, it was agreed that the package would remain at the museum to be photographed and documented, and that they would share their information as soon as possible.

Catelyn left the room to make copies of the paperwork they’d filled, and Brandon approached Brienne as he removed his gloves.

“This comes as a fantastic surprise, especially considering your discovery of Oathkeeper,” he let out casually. Though the room was actually cool, it seemed to drop by a few degrees more as she failed to respond immediately.

“It does,” she said flatly. The older man went on obliviously.

“Such a precious historical artefact, that blade. It’s said that the Maid carried it at her hip until her very last days,” he went on.

“So she did.” Jaime knew better than to say anything, even though he’d seen that coming.

“I’ve always thought that her memory should be preserved in her home, you know. There is so much more context for it, and she would probably have wanted her legacy to be honored on Tarth.”

His veiled plea was met with stony silence, which seemed to irritate him. What had he expected? She had not made her acquisition publicly known, and it had even yet to be received. Though she cared little for money as such, the price had been high, and the curator was blatantly demanding that it should be bequeathed to them.

“Well,” he went on, annoyance clear in his voice, “anyway. I should let you know that it might take a good deal of time before we can release any information to the public concerning that document.” He put a protective hand above it, almost forgetting himself not to touch it without gloves. “It might take months before we’re able to share much material from it.”

_ With you _ was heavily implied, and Jaime had to recognized the man’s gall. She  _ was  _ a Targaryen. 

Brienne didn’t frown, and there was barely a squint in her eyes, but she had subtly straightened her spine and shoulders, bringing her to an imposing height rivalling that of her would-be opponent. Her blue eyes were cold with a very calculated anger that he had never witnessed, and hoped to the gods never to be on the receiving end of.

“Then I’ll wait.”

Their staring contest lasted only a few seconds, concrete resolve against faltering assurance, until Catelyn entered the room. She had been waiting just outside the door, apparently expecting her husband to break into laughter and reveal his threat as a jape, but he hadn’t, and she seemed furious.

Smacking him with the folder she had returned with, she berated him. “ _ Brandon!  _ Are you trying to blackmail the lady out of her sword? You should be ashamed of yourself!” She turned to the younger woman with a serious frown, handing her the folder. “Don’t worry, Miss, you will be informed of any development as soon as they come. I will personally put photographic prints of everything in the mail as soon as they’re completed. I hope you understand that I would rather not send them by email.”

“Of course.” Brienne’s amiable smile returned, the tension in the room suddenly falling back nearly to normality. “I’ll be looking forward to it!”

They arranged to return the next day to continue their original research, but they all knew that no one’s mind would be into it.

Dinner was a tame affair, both absorbed as they were by the same topics. Jaime suspected that she would not wish to discuss them, probably struggling on her own not to get her hopes up, or to come up with scenarios that would end up disappointing. They made small talk, almost impersonal, to try and offset the vaguely awkward silences.

The rest of the week was spent attempting to relax and enjoy some degree of vacation, with limited success. Mrs. Umber let them know every day of the progress made in the authentication and documentation of the papers and of the leather folder, confirming that they seemed consistent with the Maid’s era. The lab results would prove it, but it was promising.

As their first return plane departed on Saturday, they started repackage their luggage the previous day. She was somber, and there was only one obvious thing he could think of to help.

“You should stay.”

She raised her head from her suitcase to look at him with a lost look. “What?”

He sat down on the bed by her folded clothes. “I can go back on my own. You should stay and assist with processing the document. I’ll take Oath along so you don’t have to worry about her, either. You can get a comfortable suite at the Highgarden with a desk and work from there.”

There was an odd look in her eyes as she appeared to consider the proposition. “I will be fine on my own,” he insisted. But she sighed, setting down the shirt she’d been holding, staring at it. It took her a few seconds to reply.

“I can see myself doing that,” she started, “and I’ve done it before. Working for days on end focused on a specific project. But...” She sighed, looking at him. “Imagining that picture, for the first time, there's a glaring emptiness where you should be.”

Jaime could only blink at that, and she had an oddly shy smile. 

“I... feel like I have done what I came here to do,” she explained. “Even if we don’t have proof yet. That folder might have been waiting for someone to find it for four centuries. I can wait a few weeks to read its contents.” She resumed her packing. “I’m going home with you,” she finished in a matter-of-fact tone.

He let her fold a few garments in comfortable silence, before standing next to her and pulling her close. “I just want to make sure that...” He pressed a kiss to her nose, looking for the right words.

“That I'm happy?” she offered.

“That I'm not in your way,” he corrected. She had an amused frown, and mirrored his kiss.

“You  _ are _ my way, Jaime.”  
  
  


There were nearly three, very long weeks before Brienne received a phone call from the Tarth museum.

“I have developed photographs we've taken of each page of the manuscript, and printed a transcription of it. All of this has been given to a courier just this morning, and should reach you sometime tomorrow,” Mrs. Umber explained excitedly.

“We’re still waiting on some results,” she continued, “but there is little doubt that it’s an authentic document written by the Maid herself, some three years after the end of the Dragon Wars. I don’t want to spoil it for you so I won’t say more, but it will be a very important document for the history of her House!”

Stress levels were especially high for the rest of the day, and Jaime left for work the next morning expecting to have several voicemails or text messages the next time he checked his phone. There was only one, at lunch, asking if he was coming over that night or if they stayed at his place.

They had been sharing their time between both flats, though the amenities at her building made it the more practical choice. He'd wondered whether, or when, they would move together, and where that would be. She owned hers, so it would make sense for him to switch, but he also didn't want to feel like he was taking advantage of her financial situation.

He greeted Oath at her apartment, finding Brienne splayed half asleep on her bed with the radio on, in an attempt to distract herself from the untouched parcel that laid on the coffee table in the living room.

She blinked at him several times when he laid down by her side with a smile. “I thought you’d open it,” he said softly as she turned on her side to face him.

“Without you?” she asked as she pressed a kiss to his lips. “You’re the best part.”

“You’re so corny, it’s amazing,” he laughed. Their relationship had morphed once again when they had returned from Tarth, gradually settling into a much more relaxed symbiose. He had wondered if her perception of having achieved her goal - which she’d never been able to truly define - had allowed her to let him in a bit further, assuaging some of his fears of inadequacy at the same time.

Perhaps he would never know, and he wasn't entirely sure he needed to either. There was laughter, affection, intimacy and honesty between them, and both seemed to thrive on it all. That appeared to be more than enough.

She had prepared a quick meal of sandwiches and salad to avoid hunger distracting them, and they settled on the sofa shortly after. Oath joined them, though she rested at their feet, and Brienne opened the package.

The transcriptions were set aside, as the Maid’s handwriting was clear and simple enough for Jaime to follow along.

Brienne picked up the stack of prints, and started to read aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not leaving you hangin' ;D


	5. The Maid And The Lion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The text they are reading are from Brienne's point of view, but for the sake of the narrative (and of my sanity) I've turned it into actions rather than keep to the journal style. A lot more information that way for the readers :)
> 
> I've never written anything set in that kind of period and this hasn't been beta-ed, so please _bear_ with me :3

_ I, Brienne of Tarth, daughter of Selwyn and the last Evenstar, Lady of Evenfall Hall and last of my line, am writing these words in defiance of the wishes of my Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, the First Of Her Name. _

_ It is a terrible choice to have to make between my allegiance to my sovereign, and to my own blood, but a mother’s instinct to protect the future of her progeny is a stronger imperative on her conscience. _

_ Our daughter Alysanne was born two nights ago, on the Fifth Day of the Seventh Moon, in the Third Year of the reign of Queen Daenerys, after hours of pains and the constant fear that either of us might not survive the ordeal. Jaime refused to leave my side, and promised me many times that she would remain our only child, so that my life would never be at risk in this manner again. _

_ Jaime. My husband before the Gods, the Seven, though my Queen would refuse to recognize our union, or our heir. She was merciful enough to leave him with his life under my protection, though without a title, or a name. For his actions against Her family, justified or no, She has decided that he would be dead to the World outside of this island. _

_ She would not have me record this, and this is where I betray Her orders. _

_ Four years ago, on the eve of the Battle against the Night’s King, She refused to see him, sealing his fate. _  
  
  


“She does not wish to see you.”

Jaime inclined his head, not in humility but with a smirk, as though he’d expected such a statement. Brienne waited anxiously, fearful that he would try to argue and make his way to the Targaryen queen. “I suppose it is best that way,” he agreed, looking up at her.

He seemed older than the image her memory had kept of him; weary and sad. It would be grief that would not leave him readily, she knew. The short and swift trial of his twin, Cersei, concluded in her execution for usurpation of the Iron Throne, and treason against her own people. She had had the forces she commanded abandon the Northern soldiers and Daenerys’s armies against the Others and their wights, in the demented hope that both would perish, leaving her as only sovereign of Westeros.

They had been forced to retreat to King’s Landing, where the Unsullied had quickly seized the Mad Queen, bringing her to answer for her crimes in front of the Mother of Dragons. Jaime had attended trial, verdict and execution, Cersei crying for his help the entire time. Brienne had wondered if he had gone away inside, like he had once told her he’d done when Mad Aerys committed his atrocities, forced to stand down and honour his vow to obey his king.

But he had seemed to see everything, with the sad but firm resolution that it was a just ending. He had seen the deaths and the Dead brought forth by her foolish decisions, and so much more. As much as it pained him, and surely it was a wound deeper even than the lost of his right hand, this time he had been free to choose his fate.

And he had chosen to let Cersei die.

Her frantic calls for his help had not gone unnoticed, and done nothing to ease Daenerys’s worry that he too might turn on them. He was, after all, a Man Without Honour, regardless of what the Maid of Tarth swore to, and she had made her concerns known behind closed doors, with only her Small Council present.

“If you trust him so, take him to you side in battle,” she had declared. “If he is true, he will offer his life in repair for his sister’s actions and his own.”

He would go, Brienne knew, if only as a last attempt at redemption. She hoped that facing death alongside her would be a small comfort, if any.

They both knew that the Queen expected him to die, as his skills with a blade, though improved upon by hours of training, would never come close to matching his former glory. Perhaps it was some form of punishment to her as well, for speaking so vehemently on his behalf, as he was not like to be of much help to her on the battlefield. Mayhaps even a burden, as she become distracted from her own opponents trying to fend off his.

Outside the doors to the throne room, Jaime and Brienne stared at one another in silence, in the knowledge that doom awaited them the next day. She hoped he would know that she considered this an honour, to ride and die alongside him, with the sword he had bestowed upon her to fight in his name. He wished that speaking all of the truths he had yet to tell her could make any of this better, but knew that nothing would.

He extended his left arm, a gesture of brotherhood and commitment, that she answered with a determination she did not feel. This was the path they had chosen.

 

The dawn was dark with clouds full of snow, and the air was soon filled with ashes and the soil with blood as the fighting began and raged on. Fire burned indiscriminately allies and foes on either side, smoke and snow-turned-rainwater blurring everything around them.

For hours they fought, Valyrian steel cutting easily through the Dead, man or beast, the masses seemingly unending. Occasional clearings had Brienne hoping for them to see the next day, a short respite before fighting off another wave of enemies.

They had just rejoined a column of their own when Jaime’s cried out in pain behind her. She turned to see a wight thrusting a dark blade through the unprotected space over his right shoulder as he fell to his knees, dark blood pouring from his left thigh.

What followed would remain a blur in Brienne’s memory. The wight had lost its head, quite literally, as she hacked a safe space around the fallen knight. Mayhaps he had begged her to kill him, lest he turned into the Dead That Walked as well. She would have ignored such a plea, she knew, so it did not mattered if he had asked. As their soldiers pushed the enemy back, she’d frantically removed his armour to better get to the wound, soaking her hands in his blood and her tears.

Someone had taken over, she remembered, promising to get him to safety. She’d watched him get carried away, then shaken herself out of her pain. Oathkeeper in hand, she had rejoined the battle with newfound rage, praying to the Father, the Mother, the Maiden, the Crone, the Warrior, the Smith, and the Stranger, each one in turn, to spare Ser Jaime Lannister’s life.

_ He has paid his debt _ , she pleaded.  _ His and so many others’. _

  
She would not see him again until many days later. Another Targaryen aspirant had joined the battle, riding a dragon of his own, shifting the fight drastically. They had been able to face the Night’s King and pierce his frozen heart with a Valyrian blade, scattering the rest of the diminished Others and returning the Dead to their unmoving nature.

There had been no word of Jaime’s fate from the moment he had been taken away from her, making it difficult at times to remained focused on her battles. Still, she had come out of the war with mere scratches, compared to some. Most of the remaining wounded would live, the rest of the corpses burned, just in case. She toured the tents sheltering the injured, her squire - no, Ser Podrick attempting to remove her armour as she walked.

Jaime lay motionless on a makeshift bed, the thin blanket revealing soaked bandages over his shoulder, his skin ashen. Fear clawed at her heart in a way she had not known since bearing witness to Renly’s murder, but in a hundred ways worse than that had even been. She fell to her knees by his side, tears clouding her sight as she despaired of having once again failed the one she loved.

“Save your tears, wench. I am not yet dead.” She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her lips as she bowed her head, trying to spare him the spectacle. “Though I am told that I would not rise again if I did, which is a small comfort.”

He had woken up on some later day, unable to tell how much time had passed since he had last been conscious. Fading daylights outside a window he did not recognize bathed the room in reddish hues, and he remembered sickening motion, pain, and a very sharp desire for death in hazy memories.

A maester had visited that night, after a shy maid had entered the room to find him sitting against the headboard. He was still confused by his whereabouts and the manner he had found himself there, and she had disappeared before he could question her. 

The healer had not been very loquacious, enquiring about the pain from his injuries and changing bandages, and showing satisfaction at the state of his wounds. Jaime was still too weary to protest much, even though his unanswered questions frustrated him. He remembered Brienne’s blue eyes glistening with tears before he’d swam back into delirious dreams, but the maester had already left before he could ask.

The maid had returned some time later, carrying a light meal of stew and bread. She was young, and seemed somewhat terrified by her task of serving him despite his attempt at friendly manners.

“What happened of Brienne? The Lady of Tarth?” Eyes wide, the girl had stood frozen before scurrying away without a word. With a sigh, he'd eaten part of the food he'd been brought, finding himself slipping back towards dreams.

Perhaps it had been days, weeks, or even years: Jaime was unable to tell the time, confined to his chambers and mostly to his bed, gliding in and out of consciousness through days and nights. His wounds seemed to be healing properly, though once or twice he'd agreed to milk of the poppy to reduce the ache they burned in his flesh.

He could taste the salt in the air, and seagulls sometimes confirmed his impression of being by the sea. Once he felt strong enough to make the short journey, he'd stood up, limping to the curtained window before slumping on a nearby chair.

There was snow partially covering the lands he could see south of his location, though not as much as there had been in King’s Landing before his last battle. To the west, though lazy clouds announcing more frozen crystals made their way across the sky, a vast, deep blue sea mirrored the early morning sun.

Few places in Westeros would allow for that sort of view, unless he had been brought all the way back to the Sunset sea, through foes and war-ravaged lands.

_ Tarth _ , he'd thought, half a deduction, half a wish.

He'd gotten strong enough to be more demanding of information, and within a few days a castellan had come to sit with him.

The war had ended, and the Dragon Queen had been victorious, had explained the aging knight. He hadn't seen any of the battlefields, Jaime had realized from the man’s apparent lack of concern for the state of the continent. He spoke of those things as distant conflicts that mattered little in these parts, before confirming that they were on the Sapphire Island. 

Brienne had been sent with many other knights to extinguish the last of the Others that had fled after the Night’s King’s demise, and to bring aid to the smallfolk where she could. It had been roughly two moon turns since his arrival on Tarth, and nearly two more since the end of the war. The castellan told him they expected the Lady to return before the end of the next one.

Nearly a week went on after that, secluded and bored, until he requested ink and parchment from the maid one morning. His dreams had been plagued by Cersei’s green eyes, the icy ones of Others, fire and blood; sometimes soothed, sometimes frightened by the earnest blues of the Maid. All he had was time, pain and memories, and he spent days scratching away his thoughts and regrets. 

More often than not, the roll would be ripped and thrown in the fire once he was done. These were not for records. He simply needed to take things off his mind.

Some things it did help, others it didn't change. When the maid had timidly told him that a raven had announced Brienne’s return for four days hence, Jaime had wished he’d kept some of the parchments he had written to her. Words he should have said, things that still needed speaking. He was unsure of what would happen once he saw her again.

The day came, and he was helped to the harbour to greet her with the rest of her household. He saw Evenfall Hall for the first time as a wagon carried him away: it had seen better days, surely, but the castle was solid, weathered, build to withstand the seas and the winds.

So had its Lady, who seemed weary but joyful to return home after such a long absence. She had sent him away from King’s Landing, but had not come along, only her instructions to care for him until she was allowed to make her way back.

There was relief and elation on her face as she met his eyes. The rest of the war had not improved her features, he found, but it did not diminish the relief that flooded him at seeing her alive and well, hardly suppressing a wild grin as she approached.

He stood, despite her attempt to stop him. “My Lady,” he offered, inclining his head. She caught him as he wavered on his feet, gracing him with a rare smile as she helped him back onto the wagon. The cut on his thigh had been deep, and he had not yet had the occasion, nor the energy to exercise to strengthen his limbs. 

There was apprehension in her eyes, he saw, and he wondered what news she could be bringing that were worse in any way than all they had witnessed.

Once settled back into his chambers, Brienne had enquired about the care he’d received, how his injuries were healing, how comfortable he was. Jaime had no doubt that she had already been informed of all of that, up to the day of her ship’s departure, but used the topics to delay much needed discussions.

The shy maid brought them food and wine, scurrying away once more the moment she was dismissed. They settled at the table by the window, bathed in midday light.

“You look well.” It was not a jape. Though her cheeks bore more scars than he could remember, and the blotchy bite mark had barely faded, she looked stronger behind the weariness of campaign and travel. More confident.

She had a small smile. “As well as I’ll ever look from this day, I suppose.”

Awkward silence followed, Jaime waiting for her to speak what was on her mind, and Brienne trying to find where to begin. 

“What happened after I fell?” He supposed this was a logical starting point.

He had been transported away, she explained, to be cared for in secrecy. The Dragon rider who had joined their ranks claimed to be Rhaegar Targaryen’s son Aegon, and raised with singular hatred of the Lannisters he blamed for his family’s brutal murders.

The Hand, himself a Lannister, was under the protection of the Queen; but Brienne had no doubt that such courtesy would not be bestowed on the Lion of Lannister, who had himself murdered their mad patriarch.

Though he had weakly protested, Jaime had regularly been made to drink milk of the poppy, to prevent him from growing restless and slowing his recovery. Once he had been strong enough to survive the journey, she had arranged for him to be sent to Storm’s End, and from there to Tarth.

He nodded, though the question  _ why _ was on his lips. He would have done the same, had he been in her position, but he knew his own reasons.

With a pained frown, she went on to describe the aftermaths of the victory. 

The new Queen had questioned her on Jaime’s fate, and Brienne could not lie to her.

“He... fell before the enemy, Your Grace,” she’d informed her, head bowed. It was truth. He had fallen. Not died, but fallen. Daenerys had seemed unmoved at best. Her nephew, a deep scowl on his face, had appeared satisfied of the brutal ending he imagined for his grandfather’s murderer.

“Did he rise?” For a heartstopping moment, she had feared her ruse had been discovered, before understanding that the young queen meant as a wight.

“He did not, Your Grace.”

Her reply had been met with heavy silence, and she had raised her head to look at the younger woman. Her gaze had been hard, but Brienne had somehow managed not to waver under it. It had softened after a moment.

“Ser Jaime Lannister has died, then, and may history hear no more of his name. With him the House of Lannister has ended its claim to Casterly Rock, and I will consider their debt to ours paid.”

The Queen had a meaningful look for her as she made her statement, letting her know that she knew the truth of things and was agreeing to let the past rest. Mayhaps it was the best course of action for the realm, in order to appease the restless Aegon, who would surely have taken his scaly steed directly to the Sapphire Island had he known Jaime lived.

His brother Tyrion had met with her after the audience, which he’d attended silently. The Hand had cautiously expressed infinite gratitude for all she had  _ ever _ done for his sibling, who would surely have been grateful beyond words himself. He hoped the Lion would have understood that perhaps it was best for all that it ended this way, and that he could find peace in the next realm.

 

Jaime smiled as Brienne recounted this to him, imagining his little brother’s solemn then mischievous expression. They might never cross paths again, he knew, and he was comforted by the knowledge that the one known as the Imp had risen higher than most would have expected of him. He would make a fine counselor to the court, he thought.

There was little else to say of her journey to fight the remaining Others that roamed the country. The land was raw, and the starting winter would be difficult for smallfolk and nobles alike.

“What happens now? I understand that I have neither name nor title anymore. And I would be of little help on a farm,” he added, rubbing his right arm.

“You may remain here safely, under my protection,” she offered, "for as long as you wish," though they both knew he would not survive long anywhere else.

For a moment, the perspective of ending his days quietly on the island was a hateful thought. For so long he had expected - often wished - to die swiftly by the sword. But he had been living for the glory then, which would never again be attainable to him. Perhaps a peaceful life, here on Tarth with Brienne, free of duties and expectations, could be as best an ending as he could hope for.

She seemed to read his thoughts. “Do you resent me? For not letting you die?”

There was guilt in her beautiful eyes, and he felt shame for his honest answer. “I did. At first.” She looked away with a frown. “There was little else to do through the pain and the blame. But...” He reached for her hand, balled in a fist, and found it cold. Never had he wanted to hold her more than at that moment. “If there was ever a time you felt that you owed me a debt, it has been paid.”

Their gazes met, and she nodded after a moment, a light blush creeping on her cheeks. Jaime pulled his hand back, gathering discarded knives and empty plates.

“What of you? What will you do now?”

She gazed through the window for a while. "Queen Daenerys has strongly advised me to take a husband, and produce an heir."

He hated the knot that formed in his throat. "A wise choice,” he managed to say. “Now that the wars are over, your attention should return to your house, and its future."

Brienne stayed silent, studying him. After a moment, she stood up, avoiding his eyes. "I have made a vow only to wed a man who could best me in a fight," she stated. Jaime nodded with a slight smile, all too aware of her attachment to promises, and of the difficulty of that challenge. She was worse - or infinitely better - than many actual knights in those regards.

When she spoke again, her face had turned into a deeper shade of red, though she still looked at her feet. "You may have free use of the training grounds, once you are well enough. If you wish," she added quickly, glancing at him. 

He frowned, wondering why she would specify -

Then her meaning dawned on him.

He swallowed, oddly overwhelmed by the proposition. "I don't have a name - "

"But I do."

Her resolve was clear in her eyes, and so were her wishes. There was still a hint of vulnerability and innocence, and fear of his rejection. He was free to do as he pleased, she had made so much clear. Once again, she was putting his own fate back into his hands.

He smiled slowly. "Will you not make this easier for an aging, battered man?"

"Prove me you are old and broken, and mayhaps I might," she answered defiantly. She inclined her head in salutation, unable yet to bring herself to speak his name devoid of titles. It was not the familiarity, but rather the glaring humiliation she felt the need to avoid.

"My Lady," he said in return, and she departed the room.

 

 

It took nearly a year after his arrival on Tarth for him to be in a fit state to properly start practising his skills again. He had lost significant weight and muscle, more so than by the end of his captivity at the hands of the Starks. It was slow and painful work, to regain mobility and fluidity in his movements, but gratifying. His body had been his pride, and more than ever before he was conscious of the ravages of time. He would never fully recover, he knew, and more than once wondered what would happen if he proved to be unable to face Brienne’s test.

The thought of her disappointment was incentive enough for him to push his limits a bit further every day, however frustratingly little. Failing her would either condemn her to a loveless, unwanted marriage, or have her break another vow. He would stand for neither.

Almost another year went by before she joined his training to measure his progress. He was pleased to find that he might not do as badly as he had feared he would, though she was undoubtedly the better of them. He could tell that she made conscious efforts not to be too kind in their sparring, even though he returned to his chambers with more bruises every other day.

He would probably never quite be able to best her on skills alone: he had been maimed and broken, and she had gone from excellent swordswoman to seasoned warrior. He was well on his way downhill while she had barely reached her peak.

But there were many ways to win a fight.

Their sparring offered him perfect occasions to observe her movements. There were ridiculously few weaknesses, he found, but there were some still. He also had to account for her desire to win: after all, she had almost outrightly asked of him that he challenge her. Perhaps she would still have the reflex to defend herself fiercely in the heat of their match, more by pride than for her survival. She wouldn’t lose on purpose, that much was certain.

Some days he trained alone, though he felt her eyes on him in between her meetings with her counselors. He had given her advice himself when she sought it, never presuming that his opinion was welcome otherwise. She appeared to be getting on well with her tasks as the Lady of Tarth, though some of the men below her seemed to often question her decisions.

Not that she paid them much mind.

He dared interrupt them one morning, after warming up in the training yard by himself. If that was not the day he succeeded, he never would. 

“Forgive me for the intrusion, My Lady,” he offered, feeling energy coursing through his limbs. “My lords, sers. If I could borrow Lady Brienne for a few moments?”

Some protested, but she raised a hand, silencing them, a questioning look on her face. Jaime wore an expression that reminded her of their fight on a bridge, in another lifetime. Defiance, amusement, and enough arrogance, even then, to needle her pride.

She joined him in the yard, wearing protective leathers and armed with blunted swords, and they began their prowl for an opening under the curious eyes of onlookers. He could tell that she was enraptured, and he recalled many of his dreams in the past years, in which they danced in the sparks of blades kissing. In those, he had both of his hands, and her face was intact. Yet, he felt the same elation now, weapon in his left, circling as her scared face watched him intently.

It did not last very long. Jaime knew that endurance would be on her side, as with almost everything else, and through a combination of carefully placed blows and sheer luck, he managed to disarm her in minutes. She was surprised for half a second, running almost immediately to ram her shoulder into his stomach, lifting him off his feet, making him drop his own weapon in the process. 

He would almost have laughed in exhilaration had he had some breath to put into it, but he only had instants before she would take hold of a sword again. He grabbed her legs as she tried to rise, bringing her back down. They rolled on the muddy ground for what felt like an eternity, struggling to remain above the other.

In the confusion, Jaime’s right shoulder hit something hard, sending a jolt of pain through him, and he instinctively reached for the object with his left hand. Knocking her on her back with the pommel of her own discarded sword, he swiftly placed the blunted edge against her throat as she tried to sit up.

Both out of breath, they stared at one another, her nose dripping with blood, realization slowly sinking in. It felt unreal, after all that time, to be within reach of his goal. He hoped her nose was not broken once more. Their audience was quiet as well, though a few were whispering, aware of what his victory meant.

“Do you yield?” he heard himself ask. He needed her to say it.

She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths, and for a moment he feared she might have changed her mind. That she had stopped expecting the tired, broken man that he was to succeed. When she met his gaze, he saw peace.

“I yield.” 

 

 

“You may change your mind, if you wish.”

Brienne had seemed vaguely nauseated after a private visit from her septa, though Jaime knew that the old woman dispensed unwelcome and ill-meaning advice at times. Still, the commitment was substantial, especially with his situation, and he would not have resented her for reconsidering it.

“Of course not.” Yet she stood rigidly, a hand crisped on Oathkeeper at her side. He’d been pleased to see that she rarely parted with the sword, even in times of peace. It seemed to mean as much to her as it had to him when he’d presented it.

Carefully, he went to her, standing close enough to feel the heat of her creeping blush. She was inexperienced, he remembered, and her septa had probably only just reminded her of all the possible downsides of marriage.

Reaching for her hand, he cast her a searching look, both offering and asking for reassurance. She had a shy smile that threatened to melt his heart, and he leaned in to press a kiss to her mouth.

He had restrained himself, in the yard, from throwing his blade aside then himself at her, wanting to bruise her lips instead of her eye. But she was Lady of Tarth, and it might have further diminished her standing amongst some of her men. Offering a hand instead, he’d helped her stand, then bowed slightly. “My Lady.”

They had exchanged a glance, and for the first time in two years, perhaps forgetting herself, she’d used a lost title. “Ser.”

He knew they were only allowed a short privacy in her chambers because they were betrothed, or soon expected to be. There was no parent to ask for her hand, as her father had died even before the end of the war.

“I need request the Queen’s approval for our match.”

He almost japed about the match being already won, by him no less, but it was a serious enough issue for him to keep sober. He knew she must, and that the young Targaryen queen would have granted her the choice of any other husband. But his position - or lack thereof - shifted everything into uncertainty.

A raven was sent, and Jaime wondered why this had not been done  _ before _ he had started training. Mayhaps those two years would turn out to have been in vain.

Yet, they hadn’t, and he was forced to admit that Brienne’s aim might not only have been to keep her vow. He would not have yet regained enough strength to knock a squire into the dust had it not been for the challenge. Though his body would never approach the state of its prime, he felt more like himself for having mastered it once more, even within its new limitations.

He had smiled at the realization. She was well suited for leadership.

Two peaceful weeks went by before they received an answer from King’s Landing. They had spent much time together, sometimes in awkward silence, sometimes in companionable discussion. He told her tales of his best years, she recounted memories from the island.

The decision of the court was unsurprising, though it seemed to come as a true blow to Brienne.

“ _ If you should take that man as your husband before the Gods, Her Grace could not stop you. The Kingdom would not recognise the union, however, and no fruit from it could ever inherit your House’s holdings, for it is a man dead you seek to marry.” _

She did not say anything once she read the message. There had been such hopes to have everything: a willing husband who recognized and accepted her singularities, an heir. She'd gone and locked herself in her chambers afterwards, refusing to answer when he offered her supper. It was killing him to know that she was probably despairing alone, and that she would not allow him to comfort her. 

Only the next day did she come out, looking utterly defeated. He had made his peace with the answer he had already expected. Lifting her bowed head, he pressed once more a kiss on her lips, salty from tears. 

“I understand,” he assured her. “Had I anything, I would give it to ensure you make a good match. But I will support you until you have no more need for me.” He would not readily be once again the one who stood by as another man took the woman he loved, but he would do it regardless. He owed her that much.

Fresh tears wet her cheeks as he pressed his lips to the bridge of her nose, her forehead. She leaned into him, and etiquette was forgotten as they embraced one another. He could feel her thundering heart echoing his own against his chest, while quiet sobs raised her shoulders.

Misery was not something to be fought off with a weapon, leaving him at a loss as to what to do to alleviate it. He held her as long as she let him, until she pulled away slightly, wiping her tears before he could, then resting her palms on his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling utterly helpless as guilt threatened to drown him. Once again he was causing her sorrow. She deserved a better man.

She sighed, steadying herself as he did everything he could not to crumble before her. She had a sad smile before walking away, leaving him to his dark thoughts.

There would be a parade of contenders. She had the Queen’s favour in all but what concerned him; Tarth had be left relatively unscathed by the wars, making her a desirable match financially, if not in looks.

He would have to endure the barely veiled japes of vapid men hoping for underserved good fortune, who would then pretend to be kind to her. She would see through it all, and it would wound her even more for it.

Mayhaps, among all of them, there would be one with a good heart, who would care for her at least nearly as much as she deserved.

The next day, when he queried about her whereabouts, he was told that she had ridden out early, and expected to return only the next night. When questioned about her destination, no one was able to answer.

A stable boy told him she had headed south, where there was only a small village, a couple of leagues away. Not of much interest, as far as he could recall.

Jaime spent his wait for her return practising in the yard. He had relented for a few days after his victory, but moving kept him sharp, and he relished the feeling of hitting posts and bags and squires in frustration.

True to her word, Brienne rode in the following day, accompanied by an old man he immediately recognized as a septon. That puzzled him: they had a sept and officiants within the castle walls. She gave orders to prepare a room for their visitor, and to offer him sustenance, before turning to Jaime.

“Walk with me?”

She seemed far steadier that he had expected. Did she already have a suitor in mind? Was that the reason of the septon’s presence? Wasn’t the one in the old sept suitable?

He kept all of those questions as they walked in silence precisely towards that building, stopping in front of it as she admired the stained glass on its windows.

“Do you think it was selfish of me to bring you here?”

He gave a quizzical look. “You saved  _ my _ life,” he replied. “At great risk to your own safety. How selfish can that be?”

“I didn’t want you to die. I felt I would have failed you if you had.” She paused. “You said you resented me.”

Shaking his head, he protested. “At first, in the confusion of the pain, yes. It didn’t last. You used to hate me. And somehow you changed your mind.”

There was an honest smile on her lips when he said that, and she turned to him.

“All my life, I’ve been dedicated to others. Others’ purposes, aspirations, demands, quests... I found honour and gratification in that. Attempting to serve my house by betrothing myself to men who despised me. Serving Renly, then Catelyn, searching for the Stark daughters in your stead. Pledging myself to Sansa, then to the Dragon Queen. Fighting wars to save all of Westeros. Returning here to lead the people of Tarth in the best way I possibly can.”

She paused with a sigh, then pulled him along into the sept, holding his hand. The smell of burning candles and incense was strong in its warmth, and they walked to the altar. 

“I asked the septon here what I should do. He unequivocally told me to marry to further my house, that it was my duty as a woman and as a Lady.”

Jaime winced at that.

“So I sought counsel elsewhere.” Her face glowed with the soft flames of candles dispersed around the effigies of the Seven. “My father had taken me in his travels to visit our lands once, and I remembered the sept in a village nearby. The septas there had been very kind to me, so unlike septa Roelle.”

A sad smile again.

“The septon there remembered me. He listened to my plight, and explained to me that the Gods would enjoin me to do what is right. When I asked what that would be, he told me that I had a good heart, and that it would be enough to tell.”

She turned to face him, the dancing lights creating a myriad of new patterns in the freckles of her skin. Her scars were turned to mere shadows.

“He would marry us tomorrow, if you would still have me.” The sentence was nearly breathless, and it robbed him of his own. She would give up -

“Are you certain?”

She gave a small nod. “Yes.”

He exhaled the breath he’d been holding, smiling at her hopeful eyes. He leaned into her, hand and stump on her waist, and kissed her, more deeply than it was appropriate for an unwed couple in a sept, but not nearly as passionately as she deserved.

He could see her blush despite the darkness and the warm hues of the lights, making him smile and marvel at her. He stroked her cheek softly, tracing the rough memories of her battles with his thumb. 

There were no other women like her.

“I’m yours. I will always be yours.”

 

_ We were wed without much celebrations, though many of our household insisted on a small feast, from which Septa Roelle was banned, as she kept clamouring that my father would have disowned me.  _

_ I was with child within six moon turns. Jaime understood quite early that the childbed terrified me, and did everything he possibly could to distract me from it. He is always gentle, and even now, as he cradles our daughter in his sleep, in our bed, I have sincere hope that he truly loves me, as I love him. As I love them both. _

_ He is unable to attend functions with me as the Lord of Tarth, as his mere existence remains a secret, and our child will not never succeed me as Lady of Tarth, for the same reasons. Yet we are doing everything we can to ensure that she needs for nothing when I pass, and that she can choose her own path in life when she so decides. We are also working with the smallfolk to ensure they will prosper when their liege lady disappears. _

_ I am like to remain known as the Maid of Tarth until my last day, but that is a lie I can easily carry to protect those I love. _

_ Perhaps these lines will stay hidden until they crumble into dust, but I pray that they be found, so our truth can be known beyond our lifetime. _

_ May the Seven guard us, and Bless you, whoever you are. _

_ Brienne of Tarth _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could potentially have been posted as a fic in itself, and I might have, but it was a spoiler for this one, so :3


	6. Settling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of their findings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: death of a pet (I cried writing it, so consider that whatever pain I inflict with this, I inflicted on myself first)

A sob had escaped Brienne’s lips at the first few words, surprising both of them. She contained herself for the rest of the reading, though Jaime sometimes took over when her voice threatened to break.

She wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve as they got to the end, still cradled in his arms. "I don't even know why I'm crying," she managed to say, her voice unsteady.

"It's alright." He stroked her arm and her hair, though he felt about as shocked as she was. This was the culmination of years of intensive research, and they’d gotten so involved with the two figures that this sort of denouement was understandably emotional.

They stayed silent for a moment, contemplating the revelation - or rather, at this point, the confirmation. Not only had the Lion survived, he had won her hand, quite literally, and they'd had at least one child.

“You were probably right,” Brienne suddenly realized. “They never said what surname they had chosen, but they named her Alysanne. If her birth was recorded at all, there are high chances that it was the one you spotted.” He couldn’t remember the date, but they had copies of most documents they’d perused at the museum on Tarth. They could check later.

"She wrote that she was scarred, and ugly," she let out softly, a few moments later. The Maid had been called the Beauty apparently as derisively as she had endured herself. They had had more in common than she'd thought and she didn’t quite know whether to feel sorry or glad for it.

Neither felt very hungry, so they simply washed and put away dishes in near silence. Jaime appeared thoughtful, though he listened when she spoke of her observations.

“They’ve had at least one child, so presumably their lines didn’t end with them,” Brienne mused as she inspected a knife. There was no information on whether their daughter had survived a winter childhood or not, though they were both inclined to believe so. With such parents, she ought to have been the most stubborn kid by miles. “And then what happened to her? Did she stay on the island? Did she get married, have children?”

While it opened an abundance of new research avenues, none of them felt remotely as pressing as finding about the Lion’s presence on Tarth had. There was some satisfaction and contentment in their findings already.

Jaime was still oddly quiet by the time they went to bed. She hadn’t questioned it out loud, but she also couldn’t figure out what would upset him so much. Snuggling against his side, his arm safely wrapped around her shoulders, she poked his side gently.

“What’s wrong?”

He hummed with a sigh, but didn’t reply immediately. “Jaime.”

“You know that I love you, right?” There was strange concern in his voice.

“I - of course I know,” she answered. It had been said countless of times already, in words and in actions, since they’d returned from their trip two weeks prior. She was still cautious about the way she thought of those words, even though it all felt right. “That’s a worrying question.”

“No, I don’t mean - it’s just - “ He exhaled with annoyance, staring at the ceiling. “The Maid and the Lion. They’ve been through so much together, and for one another. Long before he got to Tarth, too. I just... can’t comprehend that she wouldn’t truly believe that he loved her, even after facing so many hurdles to get married, and have a child.”

That was not what she was expecting to be on his mind.

“There was nothing more to gain from it at that point,” he explained. “The child would not continue his line and could never inherit anything from them, and he could not even claim better standing for himself by marrying her. The rest of his life would have been just as comfortable and secure on Tarth if he hadn’t.” 

That was a good point, she was forced to admit. “Perhaps it could have been done as a kindness to the Maid, as repayment for saving his life,” she suggested.

“No. He told her that they were even when she joined him on Tarth. And then he trained for nearly two years to win the right to marry her.” If there had been a debt, it could have been paid in many other ways than vows, again, in front of the gods. “He did love her,” Jaime continued with conviction. “And I know he would have been upset, and perhaps hurt, that she didn’t know just how much. I know I would be,” he finished quietly.

“She was unpretty and unladylike, defying a lot of conventions in their time. I can imagine she’d be unsure about being worthy of love,” Brienne argued. It was something she could relate to on an unpleasant level.

“I get that. I really do,” he assured her, kissing the top of her head. “But other than her self-doubts, there is no convincing argument about it. I just really hope that she ended up understanding how much she meant to him. She deserved as much. And so do you,” he added. 

There would be some time before she could honestly hold on to that, she knew. But she’d try her best. He deserved it as well. “I love you too.”

 

Eventually, they found a ship’s manifest that seemed to indicate that Alysanne Hill had left for the continent, around her seventeenth birthday. There were no records of her in Stormsend, and without any idea of why she’d left, it would be difficult to track her movements, and probably remain a mystery.

Brienne was oddly at peace with that.

Still, it allowed to shine a light on the truth, and though some were sceptical of the findings, as no other source could confirm it, it renewed popular interest for their story. The Evenstar Foundation saw its budget double - still not enough to buy Oathkeeper from Brienne -  and larger film studios started discussing movies and series.

The artist for the painting Jaime had noticed in the Maiden’s Sept was never identified, though very old families on the island admitted that tales of the Maid’s husband and child had been passed on for generations, generally brushed off as myths. They had somehow still adhered to the instructions she had left not to spread that information beyond Tarth. That had ended up excluding outsiders like Catelyn and Brandon Umber, who had originally moved from the Northlands, which explained why no one had ever volunteered the stories.

Though Brienne was still passionate about her family’s history and the Maid’s, she found new fulfilment in funding others’ research through her own foundation, Oath & Honour. A mentoring programme as well as scholarships were also offered, allowing the young Podrick, after some insisting encouragement from the Kingsland Museum director, to start the history studies he never thought to be good enough to do.

Oath’s vigour had started to decline the autumn following their discovery. The thought of losing her companion after so long was almost unbearable, and it took a lot of coaxing from Jaime for her to agree to adopt another dog, a one-year-old, three-legged golden retriever they named Honour, so that when the time came, they wouldn’t face an empty home.

Oath passed away a few days after her seventh birthday, quietly, cradled in Brienne’s arms on her bed. Jaime found them at his return from work, and he laid down with her, holding her through silent sobs for hours.

When they purchased a small house on the outskirts of Kingsland at the beginning of the following year, she chose a space in the frozen garden to build a memorial when the spring would come. Right next to a swing and a sandbox, under the trees.

 

In less than two years, her life had almost completely changed, she reflected one afternoon, watching the winter sun disappear through their kitchen window. She had firmly known then that she would live the rest of her life alone, quietly, married to her research. Then Jaime had appeared, had  _ happened _ , and everything had shifted. 

Her work was still crucial to her existence, but its focus had changed slightly from constructing a more accurate view of history to helping build a legacy. 

She was navigating and compromising with a partner in life, which was proving challenging at times, especially when their different upbringings and mean conflicted. But they listened and they learned, building flexibility where understanding was more difficult.

It was peace that she had found, she realized, listening to the front door open and close. A sort of quiet happiness that had settled her very soul, it seemed, and she wondered if Jaime had been right about reincarnation. Perhaps she had been searching for this under a very ancient imperative.

She felt his arms tighten around her as he pressed himself to her back, lips on her neck, and she smiled. He was home.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne visit her childhood home and relatives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEX.
> 
> Also,
> 
> Brienne's immediate family members are not reincarnations of known characters. New souls :)

“I can’t believe you’re making me meet your parents for the first time at a  _ function _ .”

They were in Maidenpool for the weekend, where a considerable number of her House would meet in an annual spring assembly at her parents’ manor. It was the first time she was taking anyone along, and she knew it had pleasantly surprised her mother when she’d been told, though she’d said nothing.

Brienne adjusted Jaime’s wine-coloured tie with a smirk. “It’s not a function, it’s a family gathering,” she countered. “It’s not my fault they spend most of their time in Pentos.”

“It’s still a pretty stressful event for me,” he grumbled, shrugging on his navy jacket. She had insisted on getting him a new, tailored suit “for special occasions” the month before, but only informed him of the meeting a week in advance. She could not have cared less if he’d worn jeans and a t-shirt, but she knew he would have felt self-conscious in a room full of groomed Targaryens.

“You’re going to be just fine,” she assured him with a kiss, smoothing her palms over his crisp white shirt. And even if he wasn’t, it would not change her view of him in any way. Her family’s were not the opinions that mattered.

She’d asked him to choose a dress to try and distract him from the stress. He’d easily chosen a dark sky blue draped piece that contoured her rare curves perfectly, though he initially worried about the fact that they’d both be wearing shades of the same colour.

“It’s okay,” she explained with a wink. “You’re with me, you’re supposed to match.”

He helped her put on a necklace with a single, teardrop-shaped blue sapphire once she was done with light makeup in their guest room at the manor, handing her the matching earrings. He had long before abandoned the idea of being able to afford that kind of jewelry, but then again, she rarely wore any.

Then she led him to the lavishly decorated garden, where a sea of pale-haired people discussed quietly among themselves and their darker-haired companions.

Jaime had been briefly introduced to Aelix and Alicent Targaryen, Brienne’s parents, when they had arrived, and it had gone well enough to quell some of his fears. They had both seemed pleased by his appearance - both looks and presence at the gathering. He had no illusion that his low social status would displease a number of people from her family, but he hoped to at least make a good impression on her immediate relatives.

Her brother took an immediate liking to him. “Aren’t you just  _ gorgeous _ ,” he exclaimed, looking him up and down as they shook hands.

“Peter,” she warned him with a glare. “He flirts with everyone’s boyfriends,” she explained with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, but I’m profoundly involved with Brienne,” Jaime apologized, amused.

That didn’t seem to discourage him in the slightest, as he leaned in with a lascivious grin. “Oh, you can be  _ profoundly _ involved with me as well. Anytime,” he added with a laugh as his sister smacked his arm. He was shorter than her, even without her 4-inch heels, and had clearly inherited the better genetics, appearance-wise. His eyes had the definite purple hue that characterized their line, though his hair was closer to Brienne’s blond than to the nearly-white of Targaryens. He had a classical charm to him, which contrasted heavily with his sister.

“She used to actually defend me, you know,” Peter told him later. “I’m older, but she was always stronger, so I guess I wouldn’t be able to forcibly steal you away,” he mused sadly. “Though I did just that once, with another of her boyfriends.” 

It seemed to be a light enough subject for him, but Jaime knew how much it would have hurt her, and his expression showed as much.

“Oh, no, it was a good thing,” her brother explained. “The idiot was trying to get into the family, all charming and sweet, but it felt off to me. He wasn’t into men at all, even, but he just figured I was better looking so when I started flirting back, he jumped at the chance. That ended things pretty quickly, and he was blacklisted within our entire social circle. I think Brienne was more angry than sad, but it did hit her hard.”

She rejoined them at that moment with fresh drinks, after making her rounds to greet the elderly members of the House. She raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend’s darkened mood.

“I was just telling him about Hyle,” Peter told her. She let out a groan, taking a long gulp from her glass. “I’m so glad you’ve grown to choose your men more carefully, sister,” he added with a delighted smile.

The rest of the guests were generally disinterested in them, though not rude: most groups kept to themselves. In the early evening, a radiant young woman with wavy brown hair sauntered to Peter’s side in an excited squeal.

“I haven’t seen you in  _ ages _ !”

He returned the hug under Brienne’s amused smirk. “Marge, I drove with you to the airport only two weeks ago for your vacation. Did you just come back?”

“We flew in from Meereen this morning,” the newcomer explained, finally letting go and smoothing down her deep green dress. “Bri, you look fantastic,” she exclaimed, looking to taller woman up and down with sparkling eyes. “That is such an amazing colour on you! Who’s your friend?”

Peter made the introductions. “This is Jaime, her boyfriend. Jaime, this is Margaery, my best friend. She also ended up marrying our cousin Dany,” he added with an eyeroll. 

“Oh please,” she countered, smacking his arm, “you’re very happy that I joined the family!”

“I’m less happy that you’ve found someone to get you away from me!”

Brienne subtly pulled at Jaime’s sleeve, and they retreated quietly, leaving the two friends to their bickering. “They have that conversation  _ every single time _ he introduces her to someone new,” she explained as they made their way towards the entrance doors.

The moment they were inside, out of sight of the guests, she took off her shoes, returning to a height comparable to his. “Oh, that’s a good idea,” he grinned. “Makes it easier to kiss you,” he said, demonstrating. They had kept shows of affection to a minimum, mostly because she had felt he wasn’t quite at ease among people from her clan.

She led him to the stairs, telling him about her childhood in the manor as they made their way to the third floor. Where she would hide when she played with Peter, and the other corners to cry when her cousins were cruel about her looks. The dents she had made in the wooden railing while playing with a makeshift sword.

They entered a large bedroom, a queen-sized bed between the two tall windows. Everything was pretty simple, but the quality of every material, from the furniture to the drapes, was quite apparent.

“This used to be my room, when the manor was our primary residence. We moved to Kingsland just before I started secondary school, but we’d still come here during the summer.” Brienne walked to a window, looking down at the garden illuminated in the dusk. “It’s been both a lonely place, and a safe space from the bullying.”

She felt Jaime’s presence at her back, but he gave her a moment. They had never really discussed the things she’d gone through as a child, or as a teenager, and it didn’t really feel like the right time to delve into it. She turned around with as sincere a smile as she could muster. “And then I moved to the city and started terrorizing the museum people.”

He leaned into her, embracing her waist, searching her eyes. “As far as frightening people go, I’d say you’re one of the best. I love to be scared by you,” he added with a grin. He kissed her as she laughed, though it was a sound he would never quite hear often enough.

Relaxing in his arms, she pulled him close, searching for his tongue and caressing his bearded jaw. They both knew where this was headed within moments, his hands on her and hers on him, and he pulled away from the kiss to nip gently at her neck, then her ear.

“So is this where you lost your maidenhood?”

“Aah. No,” she answered, distracted by his hips leaning into her and his fingers running along her spine. “Nothing ever happened here.”

Jaime’s suggestive smirk was immediately answered by chiding. “We are not having sex in my childhood room at my parents’ house.” It did nothing to diminish the expression on his face, and he pulled her back to him, capturing her mouth once more. He was deliberate at first, purposely defying her order for the sake of it, but it soon turned into sweet, slow making out.

She knew she was lost when his tongue ran along the pulse on her throat, and his fingers tugged at the fabric of her dress, sliding it up to her hips. They had started their way towards the junction of her thighs when she pushed him backwards onto the bed and away from the window, abandoning him for a moment to go shut the door. He was leering at her partially exposed butt when she turned around, biting his lip, and she loosened his tie as she straddled his lap, shaking her head. 

He was quite ready for it, she found, but he seemed to have no intention of making it the quick fuck it should have been considering the situation. Her dress was lifted until he got it off her, revealing almost-flat breasts that needed no bra. He had always seemed to appreciate that.

She had barely started on his shirt when he flipped them over, swallowing her squeal of surprise with a kiss to move on to her collarbones. His hands were coaxing her thighs around his waist as he pressed himself against her, and she had to suppress a moan.

They eventually managed to remove his clothes, though his unwillingness to step away from her made it a more complex affair. It got ridiculous at a certain point, when after getting rid of his pants he tried to take off his still partially buttoned shirt and got tangled in it. She was still giggling when his tongue and teeth made their way up the inside of her thigh, though it quickly turned into moans when his mouth got to the core of her. 

It was obvious that she had been more than ready before he started, craving him in a much different way, but he had other plans. He kept bringing her close to climax without ever pushing her over the edge, in tantalizing waves that only frustrated her. The third time, she tugged at his hair, pulling him back up to face her.

“I think we're ready for the next course, yes?” He wiped his lips with his thumb with a toothy grin, but still tasted of her when they kissed.

“Yes, my Lady,” he agreed obediently, making her smile. 

It was an odd sort of relief when he finally slid into her, making her want more of him as he set a slow, languorous pace. There were very few spots on her body that didn’t benefit from his attention in strokes, kisses, squeezes and nips, and she tried to give as best as she could in the circumstances.

The earlier teasing had been deliberate, building up tension that now promised spectacular fireworks. Everything else outside of their tangled bodies had completed vanished from her mind, and the tingling sensation that was starting to radiate all the way to her toes threatened to overwhelm even that. It was devoted lovemaking, and he repeatedly whispered as much in her ear as his voice grew more hoarse, as if he was trying to exorcise the painful memories she had shared.

She was about to beg Jaime to bring this to a close when he picked up his pace, and she was vaguely aware of his more erratic rhythm. Their eyes met, and suddenly there they were, engulfed by the feeling that they were someone else and their own selves at the same time, and the same person, bound by something deeper than time and space, and it washed over them with their orgasms, leaving them breathless and stunned and almost empty.

They stared at one another, panting, for a long moment, before he kissed her deeply, longingly, and she returned it with the same need. At that point it needn’t saying, but they both breathed, “ _ I love you _ ” practically at the same time when they broke off, followed by sincere, happy laughter.

He rolled off, only to welcome her back into his arms as she snuggled against him. They listened to each other’s breathing slow down as the last sunrays filtered through the trees surrounding the garden. There was no concrete thought on either of their mind, and they simply revelled in the peace they both felt they had attained. The moment was painfully perfect.

Brienne traced his ribs with gentle fingers, resting her palm flat against his chest to feel his heart beat. She had rarely felt so alive, such a certainty about the validity of her existence. If only there was a way to truly convey that to him.

“One day, I will marry you,” she let out softly. She knew his smile without seeing it.

“Is that a proposal?” he asked. There had been a slight, almost imperceptible movement in his right arm just before he spoke.

“Not necessarily.” Sleep was going to get the best of them soon if they didn’t move. “I’m just saying that, if...  _ nothing _ happens by the time I want it to happen, I will do it myself,” she explained. She half-rose to kiss him, smiling in the twilight.

“And how long do I have before that time?” He watched her slip off the edge of the bed. He would never tire of the sight of her thighs.

“Who knows?” she answered, beaming, as she picked up her underwear. “It’s not like it will change things much, in all practicality. I already have you at my beck and call at home,” she added with a wink.

“You do,” he smirked, offering a tissue box. “And anywhere else, apparently.”

 

They rejoined the other guests briefly after cleaning up, though their still slightly ruffled air did not go unnoticed by Peter and Margaery. “Look what the cat dragged in,” the echoed in unison, in an obviously rehearsed performance. Brienne was not the only one to roll her eyes, as she found someone equally amused in the shape of her cousin.

“Jaime, this is Dany, Marge’s  _ better _ half.” The young woman held out a hand with an agreeable smile. Her short hair was asymmetrical, a longer curl wrapping just under her chin, the long-sleeved, classical little black dress accentuating its remarkable paleness.  There was a business-hard expression in her dark purplish eyes, as if she was trying to assess his worth - financially or as a person, he couldn’t tell -  that reminded him where he’d seen her.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, shaking the offered hand. “Of the Khaleesi Industries?”

She barely squinted her eyes as that, but answered pleasantly. “The very same. And you are?”

“Jaime Swift. I’m afraid I’m no one of note, really, just a welder who’s been working with material from your company for years.”

He had expected her to be dismissive of his trade, but she seemed to soften at the information. “And where would that be?”

“Blackwater Repairs in Kingsland, for over ten years now. We’re relatively small, but we’ve managed to keep a pretty steady flow of maintenance contracts for the factories in Kingsland. You might have visited once?” Her light frame and distinctive features were hard not to notice in a workshop.

“Ah, yes, on River Row, near the gate? I’m surprised you haven’t expanded since. It was a pretty solid business when I was there, was it three? four years ago?”

While he was one of the most senior employees, Jaime wasn’t part of the administration, though he did know of the issues his bosses were facing. “We can’t really afford larger premises close enough to our clients, or to hire more workers considering the space. There was also the flood four years ago, not long after you visited, and the insurance refused to pay for a lot of damaged material. We’re still comfortably afloat, as far as I know, just not really in a position to get bigger.”

“Hmmm.” Dany seemed to consider him for a moment, and he felt weighed. “My company’s philosophy revolves around people,” she explained. Khaleesi Industries had been funded by old money, but directed by more actual principles like sustainability, environmental and social development, and accountability. Initially an import-export enterprise, it had morphed into an empire that touched just about any possible field within a decade. Machinery parts were only a small aspect of it. 

“We look for partnerships with local businesses who share our values, to help support local economy and skills,” she continued. “We’re not necessarily looking to buy, either. I know this is a concern with a lot of smaller companies, to lose their hold on their practices. It’s not what we aim for, quite the contrary.” She fished a calling card out of her purse, handing it to him. “If the owners feel they might have something to propose, do tell them to give me a call. We’re flying to Dorne next week, but that can give them time to put something together to present,” she finished with a smile.

Jaime was slightly baffled, but he took the card gratefully. “I will be sure to pass that on,” he confirmed. “Thank you so much!” Though they’d heard that he had moved in with a Targaryen, Ned and Robert had not approached him on the subject. Perhaps they’d refuse the help, but Dany Targaryen had a good enough reputation in business to give weight to the offer.

“Amazing!” Margaery finally chipped in. Both she, Brienne and Peter had been silently watching the interaction unfold, knowing it was an unusual occasion. Brienne never brought anyone along to the family reunions, so his presence was a big deal; and Dany, who’d been very protective of her cousin since they were kids, had just basically given him a pretty important seal of approval. “Now let’s stop talking shop and do something fun, mkay?”

They spent the rest of the night avoiding the other guests, throwing rice into the pond for the ducks and getting pleasantly drunk on champagne. Peter took advantage of his sister catching up with their cousin to tell embarrassing stories to Jaime, supplemented by his best friend’s input. Brienne pretended not to notice: she’d get them back at some point.

She could tell her boyfriend was getting tired when he sidled up to her, reaching for her hand. It had been a long day, in more ways than one, and she signalled her understanding with a smile and a kiss. The group made their way towards the entrance of the garden, as Margaery and Dany were heading back to their hotel. 

“I’m surprise Drogo didn’t come along,” she reflected. 

“Oh, no,” her cousin objected. “I would never bring him to these functions. He’s a bit too intense for this crowd, and they wouldn’t understand. And I don’t like explaining myself.” Business partner in the Khaleesi Industries, Drogo had also struck a deal with the couple that had turn into a polyamorous relationship. Something that they kept quiet even within most private circles.

Brienne explained as much to Jaime when they finally returned to their guest room. “And before you ask,” she said, with a threatening finger, “no, we’re not doing that.”

He smirked, that stupidly handsome grin that would still, despite the lightly greying hair at his temples, land him modelling contracts if he ever decided to give it a try. “Good,” he agreed. “I don’t want to share you anyway.”

She started unbuttoning his shirt, for the second time that day, unable to stop the smile that spread on her lips thinking of their earlier encounter. He let her do it, until she noticed the golden chain that hung around his neck. It hadn’t been there that afternoon.

Taking her hands into his, he gently stepped back to remove it, revealing a golden ring suspended on it. She could tell he had gone nervous from the way he moved, but she still wasn’t sure why.

“We’re both exhausted, so maybe this isn’t the right time to do this,” he started. “But it’s either that or you’re stealing my thunder.” He had a half-sheepish, half-accusatory expression, and she suddenly understood.

“Just - listen,” he cut off as she tried to speak. Taking a deep breath, he showed her the ring. It had small lions on it, and a red stone between them. “I’ve been carrying this every day for nearly six months. I know, I’m pretty good at hiding it,” he added when she looked incredulous. They had moved in together at the end of the previous summer, less than two months after their return from Tarth. She had  _ undressed _ him pretty often in that time, but never seen it.

“I just preemptively put it in my pocket when I feel things might get... messy,” he grinned. “I was more or less waiting to get to a seventh month, but...” He shrugged. The symbolism didn’t matter all that much anyway.

When he didn’t seem to want to press on and ask the question, she examined the ring. “The Lion?” she asked with a knowing smile. 

“The Maid, actually,” he explained. “Oathkeeper.” The actual sword had been on a travelling exhibit, currently at the Tarth museum where Brandon Umber still felt it belonged. The Northlands would still be next, regardless of his opinion.

“The Lion gave it to her to support her in her journey, when he couldn’t help her himself,” Jaime continued. “I don’t have much to give you, but you do have my support.”

“So what is my quest?” This was turning out to be far more moving that she had expected, and she tried to offset it with humour.

“To pursue the things that you’re passionate about. To be happy.”

She stared at the ring in silence for a moment, before handing it back. There was shock, uncertainty and hurt in his expression as he took it from her.

“When you’re ready to ask,” she said simply. “I’ll wait. I won’t steal your thunder,” she smiled.

Closing his eyes, he grasped at his chest. “You scared me half to death there,” he breathed.

She apologized with a kiss. As she was falling asleep in bed a short while later, she traced the chain with her fingers. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t tell him that his plan had a major flaw.

_ I  _ am _ happy _ , she thought. Her quest was already fulfilled.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ace, so I don't really know what I'm doing when writing a sex scene :D That's life.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the series, it's really ended now :D Okay? Okay. I'm talking to you too, brain.


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